Where the Flowers Bloom
by Random-Musings
Summary: ABANDONED The psychedelic summer of 1967 was more than just free love, protests, and Sgt. Pepper.It was more than just R-E-S-P-E-C-T, draft card burning, and "turned on" consciousness in the streets of San Francisco.For Lily Evans, that madcap summer was an escape
1. June 16, 1967 Day One

**Title:** Where the Flowers Bloom  
**Pairing:** James/Lily, Severus/Lily, Lily centric  
**Rating:** R  
**Word Count:** 11,298  
**Summary:** Face paint and sweat dripped in dilated eyes and down sun stung cheeks, marchers protested, young blood spilled on foreign soil, and the euphoria of free love lingered in the air. It was the summer of Eggmen, white rabbits, and R-E-S-P-E-C-T. She stared out of the bus window at the rolling green hills and open highway, hoping her thousands of miles of travel would be worth her escape from that town. She never expected that hot, madcap summer of 1967—the summer of love—to change her life in ways she never thought possible.  
**Warning:** AU MWPP (that should have been clear from the summary), drug use, sexuality, language, damn dirty hippies. Oh, and images.  
**Disclaimer:** I obviously don't own HP.  
**A/N: **Yes, new story I've been working on for a while. This is chapter 1 of 8 and was originally posted yesterday (May 19, 2008) at my fic community on LJ called "acciosalmon". So I urge you to go to community(dot)livejournal(dot)com/accio(underscore)salmon/770.html to see the fic with images and the letter as an actual letter, unlike below due to all the restrictions on , and it's just...prettier overall. Also, I credit a few of my lj friends for helping me out with this and betaing :) In case you were worried, NO, I haven't given up or forgotten my other WIP The Long and Winding Road. But I really needed a break from it.

--

Mom, Dad, and Petunia Tuney,

By the time you read this you'll probably already have tried to call the police or something rash like that. Just so you know, I'm fine (FINE). As I said to Mom the other day, I can't keep this up. I can't keep up the staring and the way people even look at you whenever you leave the house. I'm 18. I'm an adult now, and maybe it's time for me to do adult things try to go off on my own. At least for a little while. I have a bus waiting for me at the station. I'm should be going to California (Yes, California. Yes thousands of miles away. YES, California.). I figure a change of environment will do me some good; I'd go absolutely crazy staying at home a second longer.

I love you two all so much (even YOU, Tuney) and I promise to call. I'll be safe, I'll eat my vegetables, and I'll remember to wear clean underwear, so please, please, please don't worry. I'll be back home soon when I feel this has all blown over.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Especially sorry to you, Tuney. Honestly to the bottom of my heart I didn't mean for all of this to happen. It's my fault, really, for getting you all and myself into this mess. Hopefully my absence will get you all some much needed peace. If anyone asks, I'm sure you can make up something creative enough. And tell Emme I'll try to give her a ring when I can.

Love,

Lily

P.S. Don't bother coming to California to track me down. Logistically the state is really just too big, but other than that you'll never guess where I'm going.

--

Heels clicked and clacked on the even sloping cement, wheels rumbling behind her from her large trunk. This felt right. It _should_ have felt right, rather. She'd heard about this part of the city. It was the place where all the runaways went. The drop outs, the junkies, the intellectuals, the artists, the musicians; the ones who wanted a life more fruitful than the one they were living or just wanted fun for the summer. They wanted one of love and peace and damning establishment.

Lily didn't know what she was damning exactly. Politics always made her overly emotional and frustrated; she was all for peace and love and the music supporting it, but it was much easier said than done. And she wasn't a junkie and, though she found herself rather intelligent, she didn't flaunt it. So why she found herself clutching a scrap of newspaper with a tiny ad declaring available rooms, she didn't know. But as she approached the blue painted detached nineteenth century style townhouse, she felt doubt. Her doubt was then gripped with fear. Her fear was then strangled by one question: why?

_Face it_, she told herself. _You're eighteen and naïve as hell. Why, oh, why did you think this was a good idea, Lily, why?_

And then she remembered.

She bit her lip, releasing ever mounting tension through her nervous habit. Only another block down and she'd be there. Another block more of hearing early birds blast Side One of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart Club Band on record players and succinct high pitched psychedelic beats of keyboards from The Doors' newest single on the radio, streaming through nineteenth century Victorian windows. She panted and felt out of shape, and even the chill of early morning June gloom couldn't cool her off. Her legs tightened and her arm was sore. She must have looked completely out of place to the others who walked up and down the street with ease and without beads of sweat manifesting along their hairlines.

When she finally arrived there was already a solitary figure outside of the home, perched on the front steps in the mid-rise of the sun, a sight which painted the sky a dark blue with an accented orange hue. He…was a he—tall, with unkempt black hair that reached his shoulders and a rather large nose protruding from the front of his pouting face, smoking what looked to be a cigarette but she couldn't be quite sure from the distance or the reputation of this neighborhood.

She stopped. He didn't look up.

"Hello," Lily said shyly, smiling a fretful looking smile and waving in his direction. She repositioned the trunk, standing it up vertically directly next to her and flexing her pained, reddened fingers. She immediately wondered if it was wise to nearly bring the entire contents of her closet and dresser drawers with her. She must have looked deranged: here she was, a random young lady smiling and waving like a deranged maniac at an equally as random young man. "Do you live here?"

_Then_ he looked up, and if he planned on looking back down at the ground immediately after, that idea seemed to dissolve when he got a good look at her. He had a very open stare—nervous, speedy glances up and down her body as though he was checking to see if he could size her up, or alternatively giving her the typical once over, gazing longer than needed at certain areas more than others.

He took another slow drag before answering, leaving Lily antsy. Her smile eased.

"Who's asking?"

_Tobacco._

"Pardon?

"What's your name?"

_Judy Jetson._

"Lily. Lily Evans."

"Mmph," he said around his cigarette.

"And you are…" She shuffled her heels, biting her bottom lip again.

"Severus. Severus Snape."

"Severus? That's an interesting name. Are you Italian or something?"

"No. "

"Oh. Never mind."

"Lily, is it? What an odd name. And you're a living, breathing, walking, trunk toting flower then?" he mocked with a small twitch of his thin lips, flicking out ashes with his long, thin fingers.

"I guess I deserved that. Stupid question," she replied with a brief smile, shuffling her shoes. "But the reason I'm here is to question your, er, housing."

Lily handed over the wrinkled and sweat worn piece of black and white newspaper to Severus. He squinted, exhaling a stream of smoke before reading it over. It advertised a room available at that very townhouse. He snorted and gave her clipping back.

"They've got _these_ places in papers now?" he grumbled around his cigarette, sighing and watching the smoke escape his lips. "So, what's your story then?"

"My story?" Lily repeated confusedly, staring at this Severus character to see if he was being serious. He didn't seem like the joking type.

"Yeah. You don't just show up in Haight-Ashbury by yourself at age…"

"Eighteen."

"Eighteen without some kind of story about how you got to be where you are now," Severus said. He had a somewhat deep voice, but a tone which felt to her as if he _knew_ he was better than others, than their words, no matter how eloquently or truthfully uttered; they wouldn't mean a damn thing to him. Despite his awkward stance, hunched over frame, scruffy hair, pallid complexion, and unappealing nose; despite the fact that he didn't possess the intimidation qualities Lily usually seemed to feel whenever around attractive men, he intimidated her to the bone. It must have been the way he looked at her, as though she were a joke, there for amusement. If it wasn't the challenging eyebrow quirk that got her it was the blank, dark, _lifeless_ look in his eyes.

"And what if I don't _want_ to tell my story?"

"Then I'd suggest you find another place," Severus snapped, stubbing out his cigarette. "Especially if you're just one of those morons running around just to have a good story to tell when they go back home after the summer."

"Are you even the owner?" Lily asked. "You're far too young."

"No," Severus bristled. "But the owner _does_ trust my judgment, and if I don't like you then you can have fun finding somewhere else to be."

Weren't the people here supposed to be friendly? Accept her with open arms and an available room? Was this boy what everybody else in Haight-Ashbury was like? Her stomach contracted with regret. She made an awful mistake coming here.

She pulled herself together and regarded him as coldly as she could. She couldn't be bothered with the likes of him. She wouldn't _let_ him get to her. She hardly even knew the guy. And yet, she couldn't stop the quivering of her throat, the feeling of failure on that cold street as everything she imagined came crashing down upon her.

"Fine, I'll find somewhere else to stay then," she said, grabbing the handle of her trunk and proceeding to walk away. But she knew that finding a place to stay was scarce. She'd end up on the street with her trunk begging for food and water. The thought terrified her. The clunks of the trunk and the sharp staccato of her heeled gait sounded louder, more daunting in her departure.

"Wait, wait, wait."

She came to a halt. For a second she thought she just imagined hearing his low, muffled tone.

"I'll give you a day, and then I'll see if you can share the space. Deal?"

Lily immediately perked up. "Really? You _really_ mean that?"

"Yes."

"_Oh!_" Lily grinned, pulling a stray strand of red hair out of her face and grabbing her trunk once more as she proceeded back towards the front steps of the little townhouse, the trunk hitting her ankles and leaving red marks on her skin. "Oh, thank you, thank you! I promise I'll be perfect. Absolutely perfect."

Severus sighed, exhausted by Lily's energy. After growing impatient watching her struggle, he helped her with getting the trunk up the steps. With her hands free, she was able to fully take in the surroundings of the quaint little Victorian style house which looked so much bigger on the inside than it did on the outside.

The foyer revealed a smaller foyer with a parlor to the left with avocado-colored walls, a small wood paneled television, and an old couch as well as the remnants of an old, unused fireplace. In front of her was an opening leading to another hallway and to the left a small kitchen with bright blue walls and a yellow refrigerator as well as a table. Further down the hallway were the main stairs of the home. She approached the old staircase, admiring the creak as she stepped on the first step. Her fingers traced the old, half-hearted polished wood of the winding banister at the foot of the stairway. With each step she dragged her blue varnished digits along the railing, gathering light grey dust which sparkled and winked at her as she examined it on her fingertips.

"_Hello_?"

Lily blinked and looked at Severus. "Sorry, did you say something?"  
He huffed with annoyance. "I asked if you were okay with the room adjacent to mine. Not that you have much of a choice in the first place."

"Yeah, sure, fine," she said. She struggled with her trunk as it clunked and became stuck on every other step. "So, when's your birthday?"

"January."

"I have a January birthday, too," Lily said, beaming. "What day?"

"Ninth."

"Thirtieth. 1949."

"1947."

"Ah, so you're twenty," Lily nodded slowly.

"Well that's nice: you can count. Twelve years of public school education clearly didn't go to waste for you," Severus said, continuing to pull her trunk.

"So, how long've you lived here?" Lily asked, slightly cowed at his latest swipe.

"A couple years I guess," Severus replied. "More people here now than ever. It's like we're all some…fucking tourist attractions or something. Fuck the bridge or trolley cars, the stiffs from Middle of Nowhere, USA want to see the so called _freaks_ in Golden Gate Park playing bongos and smoking grass. Have you seen those buses? They give those tourists actual pamphlets of what so called 'hippies' are all about. Like dictionaries. It's as if we're animals in a damn zoo to be classified."

"You don't seem to me to exactly fit the stereotype yourself," Lily observed, taking in Severus's attire and demeanor. Sure the hair was to his shoulders and stringy, and he smelled like old smoke, but he wasn't toting beads or an ethnic print vest. He didn't have a guitar in his hands and he wasn't smiling and giving her flowers of peace. He looked _unhappy_ in dark jeans and a black and white striped shirt. He wasn't like the people she saw earlier walking the streets who looked so at peace. He was storming.

Severus said nothing in return to her observation but simply sighed and kept walking down the herbal smelling second story. With the rising sun came quiet stirs from behind closed doors and music began to draft through what seemed to be the attic.

"So here's where you _may_ be," Severus said, putting emphasis on the "may" bit, reminding her not to get her hopes up. He walked through his own room to a section separated by a cascade of thick wooden beads of every color under the rainbow and thick silk curtains which fell to the floor. It was a small area, but along with the thick yet unconventional separation between her space and his, she felt oddly protected, enclosed. There was a bare four poster bed, with parts rusted deep brown along the white, slender posts, and the mattress was old and lumpy and surely had seen better days, but it was practical. It was all practical.

"Simplicity," Lily said aloud and crossed her arms across her chest, tilting her head slightly.

"Simplicity, lacking trite materialism. That's become a value nowadays, really," he concurred from behind her as he set her trunk down. "I need another cigarette."

After a small breakfast of steaming tea and a dry piece of toast which lay forgotten in the bright yellow toaster from an earlier scavenger, Lily returned to her new space to get dressed. Severus in a half-hearted, dull tone promised her a tour of sorts around the district. After taking off her sweaty brown dress, she yanked off her tights and quickly pulled on a bright green dress covered in pink squares and brown sandals before running to the bathroom to freshen up. She rummaged through her miniscule makeup bag and slathered on a fresh layer of red lipstick. She puckered, looked at herself from all angles as she put on her jewelry.

She was about to step out of Severus's room, but she took a second to notice his sleeping quarters. His bed was incredibly neat, military style. Not a curve or wrinkle in sight upon the worn, black sheets. But around the bed lay a dozen books and atop the bed was a small pile of items. She lowered herself onto the edge of the bed with precision, hoping not to stir the perfection of the spread. In front of her sat an extra disposable lighter of a clear, dark green and an open pack of Marlboro cigarettes. Only four left in the worn carton. Next to that was a half written letter made out to "Mom" and she couldn't stop her eyes from greedily trying to decipher his small, cramped, compact text; she only managed to catch short words and brief phrases: "perfectly fine," "records," "no," "Tuesday," "little sleep," and "home anytime soon."

As much as she yearned to read the entire letter, she knew this was an invasion of privacy, and if he were to ever find out…

Lily got up and walked down the stairs and strode down the small hallway to the foyer.

"Ready!" Lily shouted, brushing her hair out of her face. She found Severus standing in front of the door smoking again.

He looked over his shoulder at her before turning fully to look at her, and did the same gliding over of her body, causing her to feel a sudden bout of self-consciousness, uncertainty. Did he not approve? Was she not dressed the part?

"Something wrong?" she asked, clearing her throat as an attempt to hide her growing anxiety. She bit her lip again.

"No. Nothing," Severus said and jerked his head to show that they were ready to set off.

--

The sun never felt so comforting on her freckled back before that Friday morning, nor had the grass ever been so ticklish on her bare shoulders.

"I could do this for the rest of my life," Lily said sleepily and turned over, feeling the sun's rays on the exposed skin of her chest. "Really, I could."

"Sure, if you want to look like a tomato."

Lily turned over again, resting on her elbows and peering at Severus peculiarly. They were in the Golden Gate Park, surrounded by other youths playing tambourines and frolicking about, some picking daisies and troublesome weeds from the ground and making bracelets, some smoking, singing, and reading. It was like nothing she remembered ever seeing back home. She felt such a strong pull towards a little group of people dancing and laughing in a circle. Their sweaty palms gripped flowers and pesky weeds as they sang what sounded like a Rolling Stones tune as a man with hair past his shoulders strummed on his guitar, watching.

She knew they were probably on something or other. That's what she heard about on the television at least. She remembered her mother talking about it at the dinner table, expressing her confusion at all that "nonsense" with those young people. Petunia agreed wholeheartedly, saying, "Those 'hippies' are just trying to get attention with all these drugs and protests and carrying on. Look at them hamming it up in front of the camera. How embarrassing! Haven't they got an _ounce_ of shame?" But Lily didn't blame them. She couldn't blame them for seeking something unknown and mysterious and bigger than themselves. Petunia mocked her when she brought up such a "radical" point of view.

"Oh, Lily," she'd simper nastily while cutting her meat into perfect squares. "You have no idea what you're talking about! You're just too naïve for your own good."

But Petunia didn't matter at that moment. The only thing that mattered was Lily's bare foot bobbing to the faint tunes of the radio in the distance. Petunia didn't matter. Petunia didn't matter. Petunia didn't matter.

"Why are you in the shade?" Lily eventually asked, as she turned over onto her stomach again. She needed a distraction.

He didn't look up from his book. "Too hot."

"Oh, come on, Severus, the sun is good for you," Lily coaxed. "Look at everybody else. I thought everyone here loves this sort of weather."

He scratched his head, and then the knee of his black trousers. She realized how thin he looked, despite wearing stripes. Black and white horizontal. Petunia always said that horizontal stripes were widening, fattening. Vertical stripes were best according to her.

He exhaled, the smoke covering his face like an ethereal veil and streaming into her nostrils.

"Not _everyone_ here is dancing in the sun, Lily," Severus said. "That's what the sheep on the TVs want you to think. Doesn't matter what we look like, what matters are our thoughts."

Lily didn't respond, feeling slightly embarrassed and cowed.

"Looks like it to me," she said, looking over at the groups having fun skipping and singing and laughing.

"We're not all happy-go-lucky. Some of us, the real intellectuals, are pissed the fuck off. We're the ones protesting and fighting the good fight. Not these people who think that dancing is going to solve anything."

"Okay, okay! Don't bite my head off!" Lily retorted.

They were silent for a while, an angry silence on Lily's behalf.

_Who does this guy think he is? The "real intellectuals" my foot! Those real intellectuals are out getting stoned just like all the others, I'm sure._

Several minutes later Lily spotted a tall man with light brown hair jogging towards the two. His hair reached the bottom of his ears and his pants looked rather tight, especially around the crotch.

"Hey!"

"I think somebody is calling you."

He looked up and immediately rolled his eyes. The man was now a few paces away from him and panting before he flopped down on the ground next to Severus in the shade without a moment of introduction and moved his shades so they rested above his forehead.

"Guess what I heard," Evan panted and wiped sweat of his brow with an eager glint in his brown eyes, as though this was something that only he and Severus would find amusing."What, Evan?" Severus replied, deadpan around his cigarette.

"Guess who got a little present from the Selective Service Board?"

"Not your ass I'm guessing, Evan," he replied insipidly, tilting his head upwards and sighing, Adam's apple bobbing along his neck. She imagined anyone else in his current position would have an air of relaxation about them, but Severus still looked stiff and anxious as if such characteristics of apprehension were part of his very bones.

"Of course not."

"That idiot you hang out with? Anthony is it?"

"No, better. Much better. Potter."

Severus bolted upright and nearly choked on his cigarette. His thin lips quirked into a queer sort of smile: not quite cynical smirk, but not exactly one of utter joy. Nevertheless, the latter clearly had more prevalence across his other facial features. "Ha! If anyone deserves to get sent back in a body bag it's him."

Lily frowned. "Who's Potter?"

"A pretentious, rich bastard who lives with his friends around here. Took a year off before going to college with Mommy and Daddy paying his bills every damn month. He'll probably find a way to get out of his deployment while those of us without mansions or estates or jobs or connections are expected to spend some quality time with Uncle Sam," Severus answered. "Money talks."

"I thought you were against _anyone_ being forced to go to war," Lily reminded him.

"I _am_," Severus said, stubbing his cigarette in the damp grass surrounding him in the shade. He lifted his hips upward, balancing on his long legs and using the tree as support as he fished in his pocket for another smoke. With a grunt he was back to sitting and gruffly asked Evan for a light. "But he's…bastard, that's what he is. Fucking bastard."

"How do you know him?" Lily asked.

"That's not important," Severus said with dismissal as he sharply ignited the lighter beneath a cupped hand. This so called Potter was not something to discuss at the moment, and the conversation quickly changed gears into introductions.

"So, Severus, who might this groovy lady be?" Evan said, brushing his hair back, giving her a smile, and offering his hand.

"Lily," she answered, reaching out to shake his hand but instead ended up with her hand clutched in his and reaching his lips. Lily tried to smile in return as he kissed her up and down her arm, but she felt her mouth contorting into a grimace with each sensation of his thin, wet lips on her skin. There was something about Evan that made her feel uneasy. Besides the fact that he was kissing up and down her damn arm in the same way as films depicting amorous European men, Lily couldn't decide whether it was the fact that he kept staring at her cleavage or the fact that he just had "loser" written all over him. She fleetingly thought of her father, and what he would say if this guy showed up on her door step for a date. He'd have a fit, that's what. Petunia would probably wrinkle her nose in that ugly way she does whenever something or someone has offended her. She quickly turned to Severus whose eyes were focused on Evan's face.

"Stop scaring her, Evan," Severus muttered. "She just got here, you imbecile."

"Shut up, I'm not _scaring_ anyone," Evan countered. "I've got to go anyway."

"What do _you_ possibly have planned?" Severus asked.

"I've got a date with Mary-Jane," Evan said with a rogue smile. "S'later. Hope to be seeing you, too, Lily."

With a wink, he stood up and walked away back up the little, grassy hillside. Severus rolled his eyes. "That's got to be the dumbest thing I've heard from him so far today."

"Mary-Jane? That his girlfriend or something?" Lily asked, wiping the back of her hand on the grass.

"Pfft," Severus snorted. "He's just getting some grass. Apparently Evan enjoys personifying drugs all of a sudden."

"Oh," Lily said. "Ha, that's what my friend Emme told me before I left. She said I'll get suckered into some sort of cult or something. And smoke grass all day, drop acid, and jump out a window."

"And do you have a problem with that?"

"What? Jumping out of windows?" Lily asked, incredulously. "Of course I have a problem with—"

"No, no, no, I mean drugs," Severus said.

"I don't know, I've never tried them. My parents would kill me. My _sister_ would kill me."

"Let me guess, your family is obscenely close minded," Severus said.

"No, they're very open minded and accept all different sorts of things."

"And yet, they're afraid of expanding your mind to something beyond their post-war suburban comfort zone," Severus concluded and closed the book which lay open unread since Evan's sudden arrival. "Let me guess, they probably think the Kinsey Reports are books of sin, too."

"Well thanks for that information, Timothy Leary," Lily glowered. "Don't make sweeping generalizations about my family. You don't even _know_ them."

Severus sighed. "Fine, fine. Calm down. Want a drag? Or let me guess: you've never touched a cigarette before either."

Lily peered at the harmless looking cigarette. Her mother told her cigarettes weren't ladylike and stain your teeth. But her mother also begged her not to leave, and that didn't stop her.

"Fine," Lily said, taking the cigarette from his hand and hesitantly moving it up to her lipstick smothered lips. She inhaled quickly, feeling the smoke rapidly gather down her throat, through her lungs and…she coughed. For a moment she felt so womanly; _grown up_. She felt like Audrey Hepburn in _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ sans the long, slender cigarette holder or the jewels or the grace or the looks. Or George Peppard for that matter. Yet, the moment of elegance and maturity she felt was gone as fast as it came.

"Give it back," Severus said, his voice quivering and trying not to laugh as her eyes watered up, smearing her mascara. "So I was right, you've never smoked before, have you?"

Lily shook her head no while another cough rattled through her body.

"What _have_ you done?"

"What do you mean?" Lily asked sharply, and coughed once more. Damn was he condescending.

"You know what I mean."

"Drugs?"

"Anything."

"I already told you I've never tried any."

As she anticipated, derisive laughter followed. "By now I'm not surprised," Severus replied. "Of all the places for America's most sheltered girl to end up, it happens to be here."

"Oh, shut up," Lily huffed, nervously tinkering with the hem of her dress as her face burned with embarrassment and frustration. He had a nasty laugh. The sort of laugh that makes you blush and throws off your train of thought. But she was stronger than that. She wouldn't let him make her feel like a fool.

There was another moment of silence.

"So, if I were to…say…be interested in…" she started, trying to find appropriate words to express her curiosity without coming across as more of an idiot, which Severus probably already considered her after their near hour of conversation at the park.

"Interested in…" Severus goaded on.

"In…er…in…_trying_…um."

"Drugs?" he finished for her, eyebrows raised with knowing challenge and a hint of surprise.

"Jesus Christ, don't _look_ at me like that!"

Severus rolled his eyes again before standing up and stretching. His cigarette was fuming away between his fingers, as he lifted his arms above his head and stood on his tiptoes to stretch. The hem of his shirt lifted with his arms, revealing skin; skin stretching over ribs and atop his skin lay traces of hair along his abdomen and around his navel. Lily turned away, embarrassed and feeling as though her eyes weren't allowed to go there, to see something private and usually shrouded.

"Um, so, er…"

He sighed deeply as he stopped stretching and put the cigarette back between his lips. He bent his knees to balance on the balls of his feet. "How would you go about getting some drugs so you can experiment with something you've always been curious about but have been too hesitant to try on your own because oh, good Heavens, what will Mommy and Daddy think?"

_You're a total and complete ass._

"Maybe, I guess," Lily spoke slowly, glancing up at him numerous times under her deep red lashes.

Severus gave her a look.

"I mean, yes, yes I do want to…try. Experimentation can't hurt, can it?"

_Unless you jump out a window, of course._

Severus inhaled through the cigarette and gave her an odd look before saying, "Yes, can't hurt. Not a problem. Tonight, then."

"You mean you have some…just…on hand?"

"Sure," Severus shrugged. "Christ, Lily. You're acting as though it's hard to get around here."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry," Lily sighed.

She grabbed her brown, leather purse and foraged through it to find her watch. She noticed the time.

"I want to see more," she said as she stood up and wiped the grass from her bottom and the front of her dress. "It's really beautiful out here. All these people and the music. I don't want to take it for granted."

"Come on, then," Severus said. "I'm getting tired of just sitting here. There's probably some Diggers performance sometime today."

The dress mocked her through the glass barrier. It really _was_ perfect. It ran to the knee, with creamy yellow fabric and olive accents along the trim of the petit collar and pockets, the six rounded, deep set buttons lined up vertical on both sides of the long front zipper which ended just above bow of the same calming green. The cool breeze nipped at her bare legs and thin dress. It was no longer sunny. Instead the sky appeared partly cloudy, borderline overcast accompanied by a cool zephyr. She looked to her right to see Severus, quiet as he had been all day with her, still smoking and looking at his shoes.

"That color is warming me right up," Lily said with a wistful tone permeating her voice.

Severus didn't say anything.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Lily observed.

"No, I don't."

She sighed. There really was no way of breaking the ice as far as she was concerned. So she gazed back at the store front window of the second-hand store, at that dress which mocked her. Petunia would love it. She really would. Especially the sleeves. If there was one thing her and her elder sister had in common it was dresses.

Decision came over her.

"Let's go in," Lily concluded.

"No."

"Oh, come on," Lily coaxed with a simper. "Don't be a spoil sport."

"I don't need new clothes. And there's a free store right around the damn corner."

"Well _I_ do," she replied. "It's a lovely dress. A real bargain, I'm sure."

"Capitalism at its best, I see."

"Stubbornness at its best, I see," Lily retorted. "Come on. I want to at least get a look around."

He sighed, and reluctantly began to follow her in before the door opened and out came a tall young man with glasses, messy hair, and a seemingly prim outfit of brown trousers, a wrinkled white collared shirt, and a black tie. A cigarette dangled between his lips as he put his wallet back into his pants pocket and clutched his bag containing his purchase. He turned to glance at Lily and Severus, and after a quick look at the latter began to open his mouth, perhaps in greeting, but whatever he was meaning to say was lost of his lips the moment he gave Lily another look her way.

Words must have failed him. He literally froze as he stared at her, looking right at her, mouth slightly open and cigarette threatening to fall from his mouth onto the cold cement. Something about that look unnerved her and a pleasant feeling of warmth filled her as she returned his gaze. Fixation soon transformed into fear, fear that he was staring openly at something _wrong_ with her.

"Mind taking a picture?" Severus sneered. "Or at least wiping the drool off your face."

The bespectacled young man quickly shook his head and turned towards Severus, glancing back at Lily a few times before responding. Lily also fell out of the brief staring contest.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that I wasn't allowed to acknowledge your new friend," he said with a grin. He winked at her behind his lenses. This wink wasn't like the wink Evan gave her earlier. This was playful rather than a failed attempt at seduction.

Lily felt her cheeks burning under his hazel gaze. She couldn't allow herself to look at him any closer than she already did, despite already noticing how the outer corners of his eyes wrinkled ever so slightly when he smiled smugly, or the fact that he turned his head away from her when he exhaled his tobacco (she liked to think that it was out of politeness), or how his shaggy mop of black hair literally ran in all directions.

"And who might you be?"

"Li—"

"She's nobody," Severus retorted. "Besides, do you think this is an appropriate time to go shopping? I hear our country needs you, after all."

He tensed; his eyes slowly morphed from friendly and crinkled at the edges to a flat out glare. Severus promptly grasped Lily's hand, much to her surprise and consternation despite the fact that her hand was freezing and his thin limbed palm and fingers provided needed warmth. Severus started walking, Lily in tow, but she couldn't help but look over her shoulder for another quick glance at the raven haired man. To her wonder, he was still looking right back at her.

"Hey, hey, hey! Hold it!" Lily shouted, wrenching her hand from his grasp as the duo turned the corner. "Who was that?"

"James Potter," he spat as if something bitter lingered on his tongue.

"Oh!" Lily said, rubbing her sore hand. "The bastard."

"The bastard," he nodded. "It was like he was undressing you with his damned four-eyed pseudo-mod self."

"Oh, please, you must be mistaking him with your friend, Evan. And I actually liked the way he was dressed," Lily ended softly. "Not too fancy."

"He thinks he's better than everyone else," Severus explained. "He went to London last spring and came back dressing like a damn Teddy Boy."

"A Teddy Boy?"

"English imbeciles who think because they listen to jazz, love Chuck Berry, and wear their Sunday best every damn day that they're better than everybody else."

"Is _that_ why you hate him? Because he likes Chuck Berry and may belt _I'm All Shook Up_ in the shower?" Lily let out a hoot of laugher. "Pretty damn petty if you ask me. And what you said was so _rude_. You may hate him but that doesn't mean he deserves to get his legs blown off on the other side of the world."

Severus didn't respond as they walked back to the townhouse in silence. It wasn't until they entered their room that Lily dared to speak.

"I'm getting hungry."

"Alice usually cooks."

"Is that what smelled so good downstairs?"

"Probably."

Lily sauntered off towards her small living quarter and picked up a wooden brush and began to brush her hair as she walked back towards Severus. He was now laying on his bed, coughing on yet another cigarette. He was a chain smoker if she ever knew one.

"So, do you have a girlfriend or something?" Lily asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner.

Severus peeked at her over his shoulder and squinted. "What?"

"I asked if you have a girlfriend."

"_Why?_"

She shrugged her shoulders and placed all her weight on her left side, causing her hip to jut out. "I'm just curious."

"No, I don't have a girlfriend," he said with a scoff and sat up to face her. "I mean, I'm not exactly George Harrison, am I?"

"That doesn't mean a damn thing," Lily chided as she walked over to the gilded, framed mirror and continued to brush her hair. She stared hard at her reflection, at the few light freckles around her nose, scattered on her chin and forehead. She didn't think she was anything special in the beauty department. She saw typical eyebrows, typical green eyes, typical nose, slightly plump mouth, and a chin lacking spectacular length or width; it looked just as typical. "I mean, I'm not exactly…I don't know…Pattie Boyd, am I?"

"No, no you aren't."

She wasn't exactly fishing for compliments as she would with her girlfriends while showing off a new dress or jewelry or freshly painted toenails, but his response caused her to falter her steady brushing. Looking at him through the mirror she couldn't help but feel slightly insulted.

"Well—"

"You're much more attractive than Pattie Boyd."

Lily wasn't even sure whether or not she heard him properly. He muttered an awful lot, especially when he was sitting slump shouldered on the edge of his bed like that, looking down at his fingers as the limp cigarette rest between thin lips. She smiled at his flattering remark.

"You really think so?"

Severus quickly glanced at her reflection but soon found a sudden interest in a poster on the wall. "Yes…I mean…er…haven't you seen that gap she's got in between her teeth? You could drive a damned Cadillac through that thing."

She felt her smile wither at the corners. She stopped brushing mid stroke.

"And besides, that sort of commitment is overrated anyway. Especially with, you know, young people like us. It's all about sex anyway, isn't it? There seems to be more emotional involvement in that alone than false emotion in relationships. Why should a relationship confine you to whom you perform a…completely natural act with? Most animals don't just stay with one mate their whole lives, now do they?"

"Wait, what? So you don't believe in relationships?" Lily asked incredulously, her brows knotted with confusion. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, head tilted. "We aren't like other animals, Severus."

"Our traditional idea of relationship is still outdated and limiting," Severus started. He sat up straighter and faced her completely. His arms were crossed as well, his eyes set on hers. He had that look about him. That look he had earlier in the park when he really had something to say, and he was going to be sure she heard every word he had to spit out. "Completely chauvinistic, wouldn't you say? People in relationships are practically treated like property rather than people. Like marriage in a way. Tradition is dictating the status of relationships. Like…like sex outside of one's social or economic status…or…or race or religion or gender. It's especially bad for you girls. I mean, what has your mother told you about sex?"

"_Excuse me?_"

Lily looked at him in disbelief, half expecting him to crack a smile and say he was just joking. But by the end of the day she should have known that kidding around wasn't exactly in Severus' repertoire. The very thought of him even taking something without seriousness seemed even more awkward than his behavior already. She didn't expect him to even be comfortable talking about sex at all. She expected that out of that pig, Evan. But not Severus. Severus who was in such a foul mood all day. Yet his sudden change of pace suddenly didn't seem so extraordinary from a man who seemed to find pleasure in embarrassing her, making her cheeks flush a deep rose, and scoffing in her face.

"Go on, what has she told you?" he said, giving her a wide eyed look.

"For somebody so quiet you sure do get excited every now and then," Lily murmured, looking away from him.

"You're avoiding my question."

"Of course I am! It's none of your fucking business!"

"I shouldn't be surprised. A sheltered husk like you probably cringes at the very word 'sex'."

"That's a lie!" Lily shouted, throwing her brush on the surface of the bureau with a loud clank as it hit the old wood. "Just because I would rather not discuss matters such as sex and marriage with a guy I just met this morning doesn't mean I refuse to talk about it whatsoever!"

Her throat felt raw and unshed tears prickled behind her eyes as he just stared at her with his left eyebrow quirked, arms still crossed, waiting.

"Well, if you _must_ know," Lily sniffed, mirroring his folded arm across her chest and staring at him defiantly. "She doesn't believe in sex before marriage but—"

"Exactly!" He clapped once, eyes incredibly wide now as he pointed at her. "Sexual repression at its finest. And what do _you_ think of that?"

She tried to stop her lower lip from protruding in a juvenile pout, only causing her to bite her lip again as she considered Severus before responding. With a sniff she gained minimal composure.

"Well, I think that when you find the right person—"

"More restriction."

"Well, if you'd just let me talk!" Lily stomped her bare foot on the hardwood floor.

"Fine, we'll cut to the chase: are _you_ a virgin?"

"I…I beg your pardon!" Lily stuttered, scandalized. Her blood ran cold. He was still mocking her. He wanted her to feel this way. He wanted her to feel so small. He _enjoyed_ this.

"Are-you-a-vir-gin?" he repeated, enunciating each syllable in a clear, concise, voice.

"That's absolutely _none_ of your business, Severus," she replied quietly. "Who the _hell_ do you think I am? I don't have to stand here and listen to your…your _crap_. I'm going to go help Alice with dinner."

"You're being a baby! You can't even have an adult conversation!" Amusement slithered through his hooted accusation, though he didn't laugh, and barely smiled.

"Not with _you_ I can't," Lily screamed, feeling liquid gather in the corner of her eyes, threatening to spill if she looked at him a second longer. They were tears of frustration from his antics rather than embarrassment. She marched out of the room and slammed the door to the bedroom behind her and quickly trotted downstairs. Alice was already in the brightly painted kitchen, humming and stirring a pot of boiling sauce. The cheerful colors matched Lily's mood like oil in water.

"Alice?"

"Yeah?" she responded, continuing to stir a bubbling pot on the stovetop. Alice looked up with a grin, her kind blue eyes filled with excitement. Her hair was shoulder length and brown, slightly frizzed and wilted from the steam, her nose was petite, and her cheeks were plump and flushed. Her dress was plain like her hair, a solid dark blue reaching her knees and swishing around her full hips as she took tiny steps from the stove top to the various condiment and spice filled cabinets. "Hi…Lily, is it? You came in with Severus today?"

"Yes. Do you need any help with dinner?" Lily asked, fiddling with two fresh oranges on the blue tiled counter.

"Sure! Grab a knife from that drawer to your right. No, one more over. Yes, that one! And you can help me cut this avocado into chunks."

Alice threw an avocado across the kitchen to Lily, who caught it with ease.

"You know, it might be nice to have some help around here. These men, I tell you. Revolutionaries at heart but not always in action: they're still too lazy to help out around the house, let alone cook. And I never know where Sally is half the time anyway."

"Sally?"

"Yeah, the other woman who lives with us."

"How many _do_ live here?"

"You're the seventh: three women, four men, including my husband, Frank. We have visitors, but they don't pay rent…then again, neither does that Evan Rosier," Alice rolled her eyes. "I would tell that kid to live elsewhere but he may end up on the street."

"Severus acts as though that's where he belongs," Lily said as she put the avocado pieces into the bowl of lettuce and carrots and cucumbers.

"I would agree to a point, but that's for a later discussion. He really is a womanizing little twerp," Alice said as she got a sauce working in a small saucepan. "Have you met him?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Lily grumbled, feeling the urge to wipe her arm once more, still feeling the wet, phantom lips of Evan Rosier on her freckled arms.

"So, I heard yelling up there before you came down," Alice said as she finally stood away from the stove, watching the food bubble and boil away. "What happened?"

Lily's idle cutting and chopping made her forget all about her spat with Severus nearly half an hour ago.

"It's just…Severus started talking about relationships and all this other shit—"

"Ah, his relationship rant," Alice chuckled. "Did he talk about the origins of the word 'marriage' and all that?"

"No, but he was going on about relationships being chauvinistic and such. So he's really that passionate about it?"

"Sure, we all are to an extent. There is nothing wrong with pushing the envelope of traditional expectations of relationships. I mean, it's the 20th century, isn't it? We can't change the world if we're still afraid of loving people who aren't like us, or who don't look like us, or who we aren't used to. But Severus's opinion on it is awfully cynical. He _does_ go a bit too far sometimes. Not exactly an idealist, that boy. Smart kid, but he'd even depress Charlie Brown, and that's saying something."

"And he was asking me…just…personal questions," Lily sighed, rubbing her face slowly to hide her blushing cheeks. "It's like he _wanted_ to embarrass me half to death."

"Knowing Severus he may have. What was he asking you about?"

"My virginity," Lily sighed. "I mean, that is none of his business! How inappropriate!"

"Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Most girls lose it by your age—"

"But that's not the point," Lily interrupted, glaring at the sauce. "I mean, it's all relative…in a way, right?"

"What do you mean?" Alice said with intrigue, fully attentive.

"I mean…sure, many have lost their virginity if you want to get technical, but what about other aspects of virginity?"

"Go on…"

"Like…I don't know, what if a girl…hypothetically, wasn't ready—or, I mean—yes, ready…to lose it? Does it still count? What if she was…I don't know, forced or something?" Lily suggested. "Does virginity exist on a…physical plane or a psychological one?"

Alice gave her a hard look in return. Lily suddenly feared possible offense from her as the brunette slowly scratched the inside of her wrist slowly, thoughtfully.

"That's a tricky one. I'll have to mull that over. I'd say it's up to the woman really though. It's ours to take, after all, isn't it?" Alice said with a sardonic smirk. "Well, sensitivity isn't exactly Severus's thing, is it? Don't worry, he likes to get a rise out of people. If it makes you feel any better he hasn't openly admitted to ever having sex in the first place. But besides all that, I'm surprised he's even taken a liking to you."

"Taken a liking to me?" Lily parroted and wiped her hands on a nearby dishcloth as the messy green flesh smothered her fingertips and nails.

"Sure, you kids were out all day, weren't you?"

"That doesn't mean he likes me," Lily chuckled. "He put up with me, that's all."

"Believe you me, he's not too keen on you types who just got here. He thinks they're here just to be a part of something they've seen on television and films and to get stoned. Thinks they wouldn't go to a protest or actually _think_ if their lives depended on it."

"He said you trust his judgment about who should be allowed to stay here since you own this place," Lily remembered.

"Yes, I do. He's a smart kid. You must have had a good reason to be here for him to even think about letting you stay in his room," Alice said as she drained the pasta water into the sink.

"I didn't tell him why I'm here, yet."

"Really? Well, then he _must_ have taken a different sort of liking to you. Wouldn't have guessed Severus would be the type to give in to a little crush."

"Get out!" Lily laughed. "He talks to me like I'm five years old. You should have seen how much he berated me after we ran into that James Potter guy. He acted as though it was my fault the guy talked to me."

"Sounds like a crush to me. Who would have guessed?" Alice grinned, catching Lily's eyes and offering a friendly wink. "Come on, let's get this to the table. That's enough for now. Not expecting too many people tonight."

Dinner was quite the spectacle. Sure, not many people who _lived_ in the townhouse were there that night, but others, friends and acquaintances alike showed up at that doorstep to see what Alice cooked, and she enthusiastically told them to help themselves and to meet Lily. She suddenly felt that warmth she was looking for from the guests and Alice's kindness as they played music and chatted about everything from politics to dress making tips. Such activity was so unlike the sulking boy at the dinner table.

"Hungry, Severus?" Alice asked from the kitchen. "We've still got some of that pasta left over. You're looking absolutely emaciated."

"Are you my mother or something?" Severus asked, pulling another cigarette out of his pocket and toward his mouth.

"If I was your mother I'd force feed you myself. Ah, ah, ah, no smoking at the damn table!" Alice exclaimed as she walked past the table, hitting the back of his head. "Christ, Severus. I _just_ bought this table cloth from that Indian woman I was telling you about. I don't want ashes all over it!"

"Calm down, _mother_. I'm not hungry anyway," Severus said, sipping water and still holding on to his cigarette. Lily sat across from him, quietly tucking away at the meal she helped make.

"Look, Lily's eating. How do you like it?"

"It's great, Alice," Lily said through a cupped hand, hiding her chewing mouth.

Alice smiled and pinched Severus in the arm, teasing. "Nice to know that _somebody_ is a little appreciative."

"I'm getting a paper," Severus suddenly announced, the little food he had on his plate was left virtually untouched.

"I'll come with," Lily said, pushing her chair out from under the table. "A walk would be nice."

"No, no," Severus swatted his hand in her direction as he began to walk off. "Just stay here. I'll be right back. Won't be worth the trip."

With that he made his way out of the front door. Lily pushed her seat back in as she finished the rest of her meal.

"See, he hates me," Lily chuckled bitterly while playing with her fork, scrapping the prongs to and fro along her empty plate. "I told you."

"Nah, you were too busy stuffing your face, but that Severus was staring at you just about all through dinner," Alice said.

"Probably because I was shoveling food into my mouth like a Neanderthal," Lily moaned.

"Well, if you ask me it's nice to have a girl around who can really eat," Alice said. "Hear that, Joan?"

"Shut up, Alice," chuckled a thin blonde who was dancing in the living room to sitar-infused Indian tunes with another girl Lily didn't know.

"Are you done?" Alice asked Lily with a laugh.

"Yeah, let me help you with the dishes," Lily said.

The two women chatted happily with one another while washing the dishes, incredibly unlike the chore it was back home, with Lily forced by Petunia to scrub dish after dish while Petunia simply dried. _Her_ delicate, varnished fingers mustn't get pruned, unlike Lilly's which shriveled up on the tips.

"So, you have a husband?" Lily asked.

"Yes, Frank. He's at the pop festival down in Monterey right now. I couldn't go today because I was busy cleaning the house and shit all damn day. I swear, these men… Well, we'll all be going tomorrow and Sunday. Frank'll be getting in late today to pick us all up, but you'll get to meet him tomorrow, I'm sure."

"Oh, I don't have money for any sort of concert," Lily frowned. "I really wasn't planning on attending one. I'm sorry."

"So you don't have six bucks?"

"Is that all the entry is?"

"Yep," Alice said, then closed her eyes, smiling. "Great bands, Lily. Really great bands. Lots of them are local actually. Quicksilver Messenger Service, Jefferson Airplane, Otis Redding, that band Janis Joplin is in, the Byrds…oh I could just eat Gene Clark up. I really wish he hadn't left that band. Frank _hates_ when I talk about him, but Lord, that man is beautiful! It's a shame he won't be there."

"He's really out of sight, isn't he?" Lily concurred. "Thanks for inviting me."

"No problem. We're supposed to treat each other like family, aren't we? Especially since you're staying with us now."

"I can stay? But Severus…"

"I trust his judgment, and I'm sure he'd say the same thing. Don't look at me like that. And besides, even if he said no I can overrule him," Alice said. "I own this damn place, don't I?"

Lily grinned. Severus's possible decision to kick her to the curb was overruled. Visions of looking sickly and mangy on a park bench with her trunk between her legs floated away: she was staying.

Lily came to the conclusion that Severus Snape was by far the oddest, most confusing, strangest person she'd ever had the pleasure (or lack thereof) of meeting. He had the most unusual, jerkiest walk, always fidgety, and yet that awkwardness was paired with a brazen, cruel brand of his very own superiority complex.

She took a nap in her now blanketed bed after unpacking and changing into a pair of dark blue jeans and a white shirt. There was an immense feeling of comfort and warmth there, reminding her of when she'd hide under her mother's sheets and covers until the Tickle Monster, or rather her father, got her out. She felt a pang of sadness at the memory, yearning for that moment when she was younger. When life was about playing in dirt, smelling of sweets and sandwiches and the plastic of Barbie; always covered in Band-Aids healing skinned knees, the way children were supposed to be.

Lily turned over, staring at the peach colored wall and heard music playing softly in Severus's room, as well as the springs of his bed shifting and squeaking. She slowly rose, sat up, and got out of bed, her bare feet suddenly cold, and turned on two bright lamps which provided her small space more than enough light. Walking through the beaded threshold she saw Severus on his bed with a lighter and something in his hand. The minimal lighting made his unclear actions and movements more sinister.

"Severus?" Lily croaked, quickly straightening out her voice.

"What do you want?" he said tightly.

"Oh, nothing," Lily said with nonchalance. "Just…how was your paper?"

"Riveting," he replied. "Another man lynched, another teenager killed in the jungle, and _The Dirty Dozen_ seems to have been a smash hit. All in all, a great day for America."

"That's good to know," she said evenly.

He continued to attempt to light whatever he was holding on fire. She stepped closer to his bed, sitting on it. She could fully see what he was doing now. He had the grass, like he said he would.

"What…what are you doing?"

_Stupid question._

Severus turned to her with a somewhat amused look on his face. "_I_ am about to light this and smoke it, Lily. That's what I'm going to do. Would you like me to do a demonstration? Pie Chart? Graph?"

_Ruder answer._

"No," Lily said, squirming on the bed. "Do you really think you should be doing that in your room?"

"Why not?"

"The whole room'll smell like grass."

"Does it look like I care?" he said as he finally lit the joint. Lily watched with silent fascination as smoke immediately flowed from the end.

"How does it…"

The words were lost on her lips as Severus took in a deep breath.

"…feel. How does it feel?"

A large, thick cloud of smoke escaped between his lips, swirling into her face, driving her tear ducts mad.

"Relaxing, I guess," he said at length, lifting it between his fingers and waving it towards her. "You're so protected. You know that."

"I don't want to be anymore," Lily said finally, her eyes stuck on that stick, burning with rebellion, unfurling tendrils of smoke trailing whispers of the unknown throughout the room.

"You've never smoked."

"I already made that quite clear earlier, Severus," Lily retorted.

He looked like he was about to laugh, but took another drag instead.

"Just take it," Severus said, shoving the grass right in front of her nose, between the eyes, causing them to cross. "If there's one person who needs to mellow out it's you."

She took it from him. It looked so harmless, so petty; much ado about nothing.

"Okay…here it goes," Lily trembled.

"I don't need a spectacle. I can see what you're doing."

Lily glared at him, quickly moving the joint towards her lips until Severus grabbed her wrist.

"What— "

He lowered her hand with his own before grabbing a spare piece of tissue and shoving it toward her red, pouted lips. Lily emitted a tiny squeak of protest.

"I'm not smoking this with lipstick on it. I'm not going to waste perfectly good grass on you and your vanity."

He let go of her wrist as her other hand grabbed the tissue and brazenly, staring right at the man across from her, wiped off her lipstick slowly. One sweeping wipe along the top lip and another across the bottom, leaving a ruby red stain and remnants along the little corners of her mouth. Any woman knew that lipstick was no easy job to get completely off. She threw the tissue at him. He didn't flinch.

"Is this satisfactory?" she said coldly, eyes narrowed.

He didn't respond.

Lily slowly brought it up to her lips and inhaled. A second didn't pass until she felt her nostrils burning and her throat crying for air, causing her to cough.

"You're a complete lightweight."

"I'm--so--terribly sorry," Lily hacked through shuddering coughs of smoke. "Clearly not much has improved since this afternoon. Big surprise!"

"Just relax," he suggested.

It wasn't long until she managed to inhale without a single wheeze, blowing a perfect line of smoke towards Severus.

"This isn't so bad," Lily said, passing the joint back towards Severus. She noticed him staring at the area where her mouth was and she could see the smudges of un-removed lipstick on the white stick.

"Why do you wear that junk?" he asked, words trailing at the end into a near whisper.

"What junk? Lipstick?"

"Makeup."

"I don't know. It makes me feel…pretty I guess. Beautiful."

"Well, aren't you vain."

"Well, aren't you judgmental."

"I'm just saying that maybe if _Seventeen_ fucking magazine wasn't trying to trick you into thinking you don't look decent without makeup we'd have a lot less fake broads around."

"My makeup doesn't make me _fake_," Lily giggled, laughing at the absurdity of such a claim as she reached for another hit. "Fake? _Me_? I'm not _fake_."

"Make one for yourself," Severus said, suddenly possessive of the grass.

"Christ," Lily couldn't stop giggling, gripping her head tightly. Her head hardly even felt like it was there at the moment. She felt so light.

"It's not hard. You aren't completely hopeless."

Perhaps Lily would have been a faster learner if she wasn't under the influence of the drug traveling through her lungs. But it felt like it took an awfully long time to roll the damn thing. She stuck out her tongue to lick the paper. She closed her eyes momentarily and opened them to find Severus looking at her.

"What?" she snickered, finally rolling it and reaching for his lighter.

It was a success, which brought along another string of coughs. But she got the hang of it after a while, even rolling another and smoking it. They continued this for what felt like hours, smoking, exchanging a few words back and forth, saying something completely idiotic, and random moments of uncontrolled chuckling from Lily. She was even convinced a staring contest took place somewhere between Lily's coughing fit and Severus's notion that man or woman would one day walk on the moon.

Severus was finishing off his last drag and after stubbing it, peered curiously at Lily.

"Why do you wear it? Makeup."

"I told you why. It just feels nice. Accentuates parts of yourself."

Lily shrugged and took another long drag. She thought briefly of Petunia, of what she'd think if she saw her baby sister sitting Indian-style across from a man a little over a year her senior smoking grass, blowing thick streams of smoke through her lips. Oh, God forbid.

"I asked again because you gave a half-assed answer," Severus said, looking away from her as he continued. "You think that slathering your face in pressed powder is going to make you look good? I mean…you'd look fine without it. Better really."

Lily looked up at him again, her eyes feeling watery and mind hazy. Her lips crawled into a ridiculous catlike grin.

"I didn't realize you were such a charmer."

"I'm not."

She leaned forward towards him, their noses nearly touching. She stared at him under dark lashes, smirking, and whispered.

"Then why am I blushing?"

He had no answer. He had no comeback, no snappy, quick-witted reply, no sneer along his face. And without thinking, Lily took a long, deep drag, feeling the smoke race down her lungs, through her nose and out her puckered lips and felt the urge to kiss him. To kiss this rude man she was sitting Indian-style across from.

She leaned in and gave him a short chaste kiss as she stubbed out the grass, nearly gone, on the wooden side-table next to his pillow.

"You wasted it," he said as she leaned in to kiss him again, harder this time. "I can't believe you wasted it."

"Shut up," she replied and he leaned backwards, suddenly just as enthralled as she was in the idea of them kissing on that prim and proper bed.

"So this is the real you?" Severus snorted. "The innocence was an act."

"I'm just thanking you for your compliment," she breathed. Lily felt his hands run awkwardly, unaccustomed through her hair as his lips enclosed around her bottom lip, breathing into her lipstick stained mouth. The fact that he was even kissing her back shocked her. Did drugs bring out a different side of him completely unfamiliar with his quiet, angry old self? She hardly had time to think of such things as his hands and thin fingers tentatively touched her back. She gasped, craving the air of the smoke filled room.

Lily pulled away. "Your nose keeps getting in the way, you know."

He ignored her, and kissed her again. She felt she was drowning in this. Despite his thin frame he felt so heavy next to her, side by side; she felt him everywhere at once but knew he likely wasn't. Far away she felt his fingers trail down her back without pattern or plan of execution; like a sort of lust induced confusion between limbs and strong stimuli.

Lily had kissed three boys in her life.

The first was the neighborhood boy who she had known since she was in diapers. They were twelve and celebrating the fourth of July, summer of 1961, and the two kissed awkwardly as fireworks exploded in the night sky in the distance. It was the boy she thought she was in love with and, in her wistful preteen fantasies, thought she'd someday marry. Until he moved months later. It wasn't as though it was far, but 5 miles away feels like such a distance to a girl of twelve, about to begin junior high in the fall. He might as well have lived on the other side of the world.

The second was, unfortunately, with her first real boyfriend. A boy named Ruddy Davis. He was God awful and, despite that blonde hair and those blue eyes, he smelled like salami and Wonder bread, even on his breath. She supposed at fourteen it was customary to completely rape one's mouth with their unskilled tongue while _Bewitched_ played in the background. Needless to say, they didn't last long.

The third was with a man named Oliver Hanley.

Oliver Hanley. Same old, same old, plain Jane, gawky Petunia Evans had a boyfriend who everyone thought was too good for her. And Petunia knew it, really. Lily often heard her sister chat on the phone with her friends, worried sick about what the neighbors thought of them, what Oliver would think of her new dress, and wondering if breakup was around the corner and praying it wasn't. But Petunia loved him, with his smile and well combed hair and love of athletics and natural smarts and know-how ("He has straight A's in school, you know that right?" Petunia would rave). Oh, how she'd go on about what a dream boat he was, not knowing what a pig he _really_ was past that bright white smile and wink he always gave girls when Petunia's head was turned. How Lily _loathed_ him. How the very thought of him made her stomach churn. She cursed herself for ever falling for him; for his tricks, for his smile and light cologne, for his fingers teasing the skin of her exposed knee and his lips curling into a sly smile, whispering impious things in her ear while Petunia was in another room, completely unaware…

With that thought at the cusp of her mind, throughout the drug induced haze, she could feel Severus's thin lips on her own, and then her chin, awkwardly moving along her neck, her collarbone, her—

Her eyes opened. She found herself humming softly despite herself, but through her dizziness managed to mutter for it to stop. The music was too loud. The breathing was too fast. The smoke was too thick. Her short buzz was short lived; her sudden euphoric, lusty stupor died.

_The innocence was just an act._

"Stop," she managed to breathe, turning her body away from him.

"What—"

"Just stop it," Lily gritted out, through bared teeth, voice wavering through the diluted mist of the burning grass.

Wordless, she pushed the awkward, sullen looking man away from her. She stood, finding it difficult to stand straight, so she leaned against a poster on the wall as she buttoned her blue jeans, now shrouding the slightest sliver of rose undergarments which lay beneath. She couldn't look at him, let alone herself. She felt sick as she glanced at herself in the mirror: swollen lips, disheveled hair, wrinkled shirt, drug induced reddened eyes. Her messy visage provided a rude awakening.

She stumbled through the beads before falling onto her own bed; eyes open and dry tongue tasting of foul herb. She ran her tongue slowly, experimentally against her teeth as she stared at the peach colored wall in front of her; its simplicity and its normalcy ridiculing her. She didn't bother to take her clothes off and change, she couldn't find the energy. She felt cheap, like the cheap slut her sister said she was just days ago. In the distance she heard Severus tread across his room and change the record. Those footsteps reminded her of his existence, and her foolishness. The wail of Eric Burdon on the record player, however, took her thoughts away from such criticisms.

_Oh mother tell your children  
Not to do what I have done  
Spend your life in sin and misery  
In the House of the Rising Sun_

Her first day in Haight-Ashbury was complete. She tried to think of tomorrow's concert, of Grace Slick's beauty, and of what adventure tomorrow may bring. Yet, the hopeful fantasies of such ideas didn't ward off the nightmares from manifesting themselves that night.

Before she dozed off she heard the click, clicking of Severus's lighter igniting another cigarette.  
"You're a strange girl, Evans," she heard him say, knowing she was awake. "If you think I forgot about finding out why you're here then you've got another thing coming. I'll find out whether you like it or not."

With the stale smell of smoke in her nose, she finally slumbered.

--

**A/N:** By the way, I just categorized this under Lily and Severus as the main characters here, but I would add James in there too if would let me have three main characters. So if you suddenly don't see this in the Lily/Severus section it may be changed to the Lily/James section or, eventually, just under Lily. So I urge you, if you want to continue to get updates no matter what category, to either have this under alert or finding it just under Lily.

Feel free to review and thanks for reading! :)


	2. June 17, 1967 Day Two

**Title:** Where the Flowers Bloom  
**Pairing: **James/Lily, Severus/Lily, Lily centric  
**Rating:** R  
**Word Count:** 9,410  
**Summary:** Face paint and sweat dripped in dilated eyes and down sun stung cheeks, marchers protested, young blood spilled on foreign soil, and the euphoria of free love lingered in the air. It was the summer of Eggmen, white rabbits, and R-E-S-P-E-C-T. She stared out of the bus window at the rolling green hills and open highway, hoping her thousands of miles of travel would be worth her escape from that town. She never expected that hot, madcap summer of 1967—the summer of love—to change her life in ways she never thought possible.  
**Warning:** AU MWPP (that should have been clear from the summary), drug use, sexuality, language, damn dirty hippies. And in this chapter, name dropping like crazy.  
**Disclaimer:** I obviously don't own HP.  
**A/N:** I really have mixed feelings about this chapter. I thought I could have done better and I like some parts more than others but I REALLY wanted to get this out of the way, especially since I'm on vacation in London and Parisf at the moment. So what I have to say on this version of this story, I'd suggest reading it on communityDOTlivejournalDOTcomSLASHacciosalmon, so you an see the photo(s) and such used for this story. Also, no, I haven't abanoned The Long and Winding Road. It's just on a bit of a hiatus as I work on this after this fic/stop having a bit of a life.

SO ENJOY AND PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW!

--

**JUNE 17, 1967 DAY 2**

The so-called June Gloom she remembered hearing about was true. The peach-colored wall in front of her, which seemed so intensely bright the previous night, was now diluted with dull grey overtones. It reflected her mood perfectly. Lily woke up on the opposite end of her high feeling dizzy and disoriented, shortly forgetting where she was but soon realizing the flowery wallpaper and large windows of her bedroom were thousands of miles away. So was her comfortable bed. She gingerly rubbed a knot in her back, sore from poor sleep, and her dry tongue licked chapped lips, bringing muddled memories of last night to the forefront of her mind. Lily still felt disgusted by what she did with a boy she had only known for sixteen hours at the most. Despite the awkward interaction between them, contrived intimacy was there. She blamed the drug and her low tolerance for her behavior, but the illicit scapegoat didn't dissolve the truth. She didn't hate the experience of feeling outside of herself for once, she reckoned it was what she needed most. But _God;_ she hated what she became under it, not to mention the burning sensation still in her throat and lungs.

Lily crawled out of bed and took off her clothes and stood still, naked before her bed. She often spent much time examining her body in front of mirrors and turning and staring at various angles and poses like some sort of life-size doll or model in _Vogue_ or _Harper's Bazaar_. The one she placed on her small dresser was large enough to reveal most of her body to her sleepy eyes. Everything was the same: she had the same thighs, same breasts, same bottom, same arms, same stomach, same legs and knees. She made faces at herself in the mirror, showing her teeth like an animal, smiling like Miss America, pouting and puckering her lips with her lipstick and eye makeup still smudged from the night before so she looked like a tousled tramp.

She was so different from her sister. There was similarity when they were younger, be it eye shape or nose. But as they both grew, the differences strongly outweighed the similarities. Petunia was always rather skinny ("_Slender, _Lily. _Slender_."_) _and danced ballet regularly for a time. The slightly underdeveloped look of her breasts and hips when she was a teenager sometimes reminded Lily of some sort of trendy model from all the papers and magazines. Petunia's pale blue eyes and perfectly manicured shoulder-length blonde hair made up for her less appealing features, like her long neck ("Oliver says my neck is exotic") or her natural lip-curled frown whenever her face was relaxed. Lily on the other hand lacked the look of her favorite models like Twiggy or Penelope Tree. Her body was fuller than her older sister's and she had a few stray freckles Petunia always told her could easily be bleached off with lemon juice, an assurance which led to an incredibly painful incident when Lily was twelve. Her hair was auburn, slightly darkened with age from its former bright red. Petunia often told her she should dye her hair a much more "soothing" color ("Why would you want all that unneeded attention, Lily? Especially when mom and dad don't have that hair color themselves. It makes us _all_ look suspicious, really, if you think about it!"). Lily often told Petunia she should shut up about her hair and its level of soothing.

Her body was like a sort of storybook: each scar, freckle, and extra fleshy spot told had some tale to accompany it. Lily's fingers slowly traveled from her neck, around each breast, and down her sides until her fingers gently pressed on her hips. The pain wasn't there anymore unless she pressed her fingers roughly along the tender muscles. She was unsure of her reasons, but she almost _wanted_ to feel the pain, as if to remind her of the reality of what happened, to convince her that night wasn't a lie or part of her imagination—a contrived nightmare weaved and spun for her own escapism.

Sighing, Lily rummaged through her unpacked trunk for underwear and threw on a flower  
patterned dress and a sweater. Leaving her room she passed by Severus's bed, but in the dark wasn't sure if he was in bed or not and she didn't want to stick around to find out. She descended the creaky stairs towards the kitchen, feet treading heavily.

After heating the coffee percolator on the stove, pouring herself a cup and adding milk and coarse "organic" sugar to the cup, she sat atop the kitchen counter. The sugar wasn't dissolving fast enough for her liking despite constant stirring of her spoon in the steaming tan liquid.

"Damn organic shit," Lily hissed irritably and resorted to crushing the crystals with the head of the spoon before slamming the cup on the counter and glaring at the churning liquid. "Dissolve!"

A loud yawn from the hallway ceased her sugar crushing, and a man she hadn't seen last night during dinner stepped into the kitchen, looking exhausted and sporting nothing but a pair of plain green boxers. He didn't seem to notice her as he rummaged through the fridge, scratching his bottom from the open refrigerator door, unaware of Lily's stifled giggles in the dark corner of the kitchen. The man looked to be in his mid-twenties with brown hair and a bit of a belly. He pulled out some leftover cold pasta and turned around, nearly dropping the plate as he noticed her.

"Shit!" he exclaimed. He was English. "Hello?"

"Hi, sorry I was just fixing some—"

"Who are you?" he squinted, turning on more lights.

"I'm Lily. Lily Ev—"

"Oh, right, right! That girl Alice was talking about. I'm Frank," he said, holding out his hand for a firm handshake with an apologetic smile, which Lily returned. "Sorry 'bout that."

He was really quite sweet, she decided. He had a genuine smile, told silly jokes, and had a carefree air about him which she appreciated in contrast to Severus who took everything so damn seriously.

And speak of the devil, as the two were in the middle of laughing, Severus came into the kitchen scratching his own scalp and ignoring the pair, pouring the coffee Lily brewed for herself.

"All right, Severus?" Frank asked.

"Yeah," he replied. He didn't add any sugar to his coffee, let alone creamer. Lily wanted to be surprised, but she wasn't surprised in the least. Bitter, dark coffee matched the bitter, dark-haired man perfectly.

"You certainly look bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning," Frank said sharing a smile with Lily.

"Mmph."

"You've met Lily, of course," Frank said. "A real firecracker, this one!"

Lily hoped to hide her red cheeks with her coffee cup. The sugar was still grainy.

"Yeah, we've met," Severus muttered, taking a sip from his own steaming cup.

"Great!" Frank exclaimed, hitting him on the back in what could have easily been a sign of some sort of brotherhood or mutual friendship if Severus hadn't been so weak shouldered and sloshed some coffee onto the floor as his body buckled from the impact of the polite gesture. Frank, however, remained oblivious to the tension between them. "Hope you two are ready for the concert today. It's amazing, really amazing. A true blue pop festival. I'm going to go get Alice ready."

With that he ran up the stairs, making as much noise as possible in the process, and leaving Lily and Severus standing awkwardly on opposite sides of the quirkily decorated kitchen. She folded her arms across her chest and took a long sip of her coffee; still not sweet enough for her liking but enough to get her through the morning with a kick.

"Good morning," she said into her coffee cup.

"Good morning," he replied into his own.

The back of the van was the most uncomfortable place to ride. It may not have been if the back hadn't been completely customized. The sturdy, cushioned camper seats had been gutted and replaced with colorful cloths and pillows with painted symbols and magazine clippings on the walls which were clearly Alice's design. The shag carpet didn't help matters. Lily attempted using every pillow available to comfort her aching back against the hard trunk door, but with no avail. Even more awkward was that she was stuck in the right hand corner of the back of the vehicle while Severus, who looked just as uncomfortable, sat squeezed in next to her and a load of camping supplies with his chin resting on his bony knees. The ride was brutal; each bump in the road made her body shake, and with each shake Evan Rosier, on the other side of the trunk, seemed transfixed.  
_The pervert_, she thought darkly, just before her head was suddenly whacked against the metal door.

"Ouch!"

Severus appeared unfazed by the outburst as he lit his cigarette. Lily contemplated a scenario in which the bump caused her to bleed profusely from her skull, getting blood all over him and his damn cigarette, and he still probably wouldn't pay attention to her.

With Alice and Frank speaking heatedly to each other in the driver's area and Evan blabbing on to the other people squeezed in, like Joan and a few others she had met during dinner last night, she couldn't stand Severus' silence next to her.

"Look," Lily said in a low voice as she rubbed the back of her head with a wince. "I'm sorry about last night. It was stupid. _Really _stupid, okay? I…I don't know what came over me."

"You were high, but you know what came over you." Severus' said, lips muffled around his cigarette.

He wasn't going to make this easy for her. She leaned in closer to him. "So I did, but it was wrong of me regardless. It didn't feel right, of course. I shouldn't have thrown myself all over you like a cheap coat. I…I think maybe it was an act of nerves. I'm sorry."

"Sure," Severus shrugged, not looking at her. "I, on the other hand, find it amusing that you assume that I was so…_damaged_ by it. Speak for yourself. Don't presume that just because you're attractive any physical involvement you have with someone else is automatically some sort of fucking religious experience."

Lily immediately felt as if she was just punched in the stomach and doused in ice-cold water, the wind knocked out of her. After spending all night and all morning feeling disgusted with herself and preparing an apology for the bastard, he felt nothing. _Nothing_. He didn't even _care_.

"You know what, Severus?" Lily laughed humorlessly, lips twisted with anger. "You're right. I should speak for myself. Why should I worry myself about your feelings anyway?"

"Exactly."

"You mean nothing to me. I don't even _know_ you. I don't even _like_ you."

"Fantastic."

This was not the reaction she hoped for. She wanted to hurt him. Watching him staring off smoking, unconcerned, she felt a pang of failure. But what did she expect him to do? Cry?

She scoffed at her fantasy and turned away from him. A book lay face down at her feet, likely Frank's. She managed to flip it over with her feet.

**HOWL  
AND OTHER POEMS  
ALAN GINSBURG  
Introduction by  
WILLIAMS CARLOS WILLIAMS  
**

Lily remembered ages ago when her best friend Emmeline's mother came home from work ranting and raving about a book being banned at the library in which she worked. Emme's mother was a genuine lover of books, the sort who would cringe at dog-eared pages and turn beet red if a page was wrinkled; a banned book was an unloved book. This was the book she was so livid about. Lily grunted as she strained to reach the book and picked it up, regarding the simple black text against the white cover.

"Hey, Frank?" Lily called over the incessant talk of Evans' tall tales.

"Yeah?"

"Can I borrow _Howl_ from you? It's just sitting here, after all."

"Sure, I've read it a million times. Bloody brilliant, that man Ginsburg. Bloody fucking brilliant."

"I think you'll like it, Lily," Alice concurred from the passenger seat, her feet atop the dashboard and right arm out the window, appearing a ghostly gray against the waning morning fog. "If you like poetry."

"I love poetry," she replied, and stuffed the book in her purse. "How much farther?"

"Not much. When you notice traffic, we're close."

As the van whished past a police car on the side of the road, something hit her.

"Frank, how long have you been in this country?"

"I don't know, little over a year and a half, I reckon."

"Do you have a driver's license?"

Frank quickly turned his head towards her from the driver's seat and smiled. "Nope."

Traffic was awful, as Frank predicted. He started to argue with Alice, suddenly upset that she made him leave the ongoing festival to pick them all up this morning as a punishment. While Evan and Severus were talking about nothing in particular, Lily found herself staring out the cracked-open window at the various other cars waiting in traffic, trying to get to the concert. The scene was like something she only saw on black and white television sets at home: several cars of all shapes and sizes painted with images of flowers and peace signs and phrases.

After about forty-five minutes of waiting around in a car exhaust-induced stream of filth coming in through the windows, the van was finally able to park on the massive festival grounds.

"Just park the fucking thing by the grass! See, right there! Perfect spot, now go!"

"Fuck_,_ Alice, stop shouting!" Frank yelled, a chord in his reddened neck throbbing with each syllable.

"I think I have every right to shout at you! Do you know how much I had to clean up with no help whatsoever? Huh? Do you?" Alice fired back.

"You're _still_ going on about that? You're absolutely mad."

"_Mad?_"

"Yeah, barking mad, making me go and get you lot. You could have gotten here some other sort of way."

"Your van is the biggest, Frank. I can't fit this many people in my car and you know it, you idiot."

"If you're going to ruin this concert for me—"

"The concert, the concert, the concert. Well that's just swell, Frank. I see what you care about more!"

Frank finally parked the Volkswagen van and Alice jumped out, slamming the door and walking briskly onto the festival grounds. Nobody else seemed phased by the outburst from the young married couple. In fact, they all acted as if they didn't hear the deafening exchange at all.

After eavesdropping on Frank's string of curses towards Alice, Lily took off her sandals and treaded the deep green grass. The cloudy haze had just let up but the grass retained the cool morning moisture, dampening her wiggling toes and heels. The grounds were huge and they seemed to be in a popular area of cars and eating booths. She spotted the stadium of chairs with a full audience already in the distance but close enough to not be a huge hassle getting from the seating to the car. The number of people milling about the festival shocked her; she'd never in her life been around so many people, literally thousands of different people. Fashionable men and women promenaded around from booth to booth, people lay in the grass or against trees, state troopers and cops lurked in shadows and by facilities, and even children and babies clung onto their young, bohemian mothers.

And the _beards_. She'd never seen so many scraggly, out of control beards in her life.

"Lily," Alice said, catching Lily by the shoulder softly. "We'll meet back here at five, okay? Just to check in."

"Okay," Lily agreed. "But are you all right? You and Frank…"

"Oh, don't worry about that," Alice said, swatting her hand in the air with a reassuring smile. "We fight all the time. It's as if we've been married for _decades_. Now go have fun and meet some cute boys."

Alice gave her a friendly pinch on the arm and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and, with that, Lily set off on her own towards the various booths at the festival grounds, enjoying the music in the distance. As Lily walked with the crowd, she felt a sense of freedom. She wasn't Lily Evans, Petunia Evans' baby sister who lives on Oak Lane and listens to her records too loudly. She was just one of them, one of thousands just enjoying the ride, the sights, and the sounds. She walked along the grassy field without a destination in mind for an hour or so, finding herself performing small tasks along the way: holding a woman's items as she struggled to put a sweater over her son's head, picking up fallen paint brushes, and even spared a particularly attractive boy around her age a few cents. As the afternoon dragged on the sun began to project elongated shadows on the many walking and lounging in the sun. Lily stared at her shadow as she walked, noticing how tall and narrow her other self was. Unable to help herself she stopped in her tracks, not so nonchalantly striking small poses with her hands on hips, watching her shadow mimic them in much more graceful, lithe manifestations.

"You know, my mother said I was afraid of my shadow as a baby."

Lily froze mid-pose and turned her head around to see none other than "the bastard" himself: James Potter leaning against a nearby tree, grinning from ear to ear at the look of surprise on her face. He appeared rather pleased with himself that he managed to startle her.

"Really?" Lily played along and stared at both of their shadows in the grass, suddenly plain and lacking the life she felt her own possessed seconds ago.

"Oh, absolutely. Terrified. I'd cry every time I'd see it and there's plenty of photographic evidence to support it. But I say it builds character. And at least I wasn't a bed wetter, right?" James said, pushing his glasses higher up his nose before offering her a hand shake. "James Potter."

Lily returned the polite gesture. "Lily Evans."

"I haven't seen you around the city before yesterday when you were with Sni—Snape."

"I just got here yesterday, actually," Lily said.

"Ah. So, where are you from, Lily?" he asked, hands in his pockets. He looked silly standing there with a tie knotted around his head like a headband, square glasses slightly askew, hair even messier than the day before, and red and gold plaid shirt half tucked into the narrow-legged jeans shrouding his thin legs. He sure didn't seem like he was rich or exceedingly arrogant as he waited for her response with genuine interest.

"Ohio. Suburb of Cleveland."

He whistled and scratched his scalp. "Wow, you came pretty damn far."

"Yeah, I guess you can say that," Lily nodded.

"So what's Ohio like?"

"Boring," she shrugged. "Trees, malt shops, and traditionalists."

"Sounds like Connecticut, minus the malt shop part of course," James said. "That would be too fun for the stiffs."

"You're from Connecticut?"

"Might as well be. But no, I'm from New York City. Parents sent me off to boarding school in Connecticut though to get a good education and all. Pfft," James snorted. "God I hated that place. It's like a fucking gulag there."

"Wow, the Big Apple, eh?" Lily marveled, visions of _Breakfast at Tiffany's _manifesting once more in her head.

"Just from a tiny bite of it. Central Park West."

Lily blinked.

"It's on the upper east side of the city. It's where all the rich, over-privileged bastards like me live," he explained before smirking. "But before we get back to talking about me, where's ol' Sni—Snape?"

"I don't know," Lily shook her head, suddenly sour. "And frankly I could care less. Why?"

"I thought you two looked pretty chummy yesterday," James said flippantly as he put his hands in his jeans pockets and shrugged. "Figured you'd be here with him."

"That's before I found out what a jerk he was," Lily said.

"Jerk is right," he concurred. "In fact, it's one hell of an understatement if you ask me."

"But you know," Lily started slowly and quirked a brow, tilting her head and peering at James with newfound scrutiny. "He _did_ say a few interesting things about you."

"Oh, really?" James said, running his hand through his hair as he regarded Lily intently, relishing her curious stance. "What did the little grease bag have to say about little ol' me?"

"Said you're arrogant," Lily counted off on her right hand. "And pretentious, and rich, and live off your parents' money."

James chuckled. "How do you feel about honesty?"

"It's important," Lily said. "Without honesty… you're just a fraud...I guess. Or maybe just a liar. Or both."

"Do you want an honest response to that from a relatively honest guy?"

"All right then, let's hear it," Lily said.

"Good," James said, taking a step closer to her and counting off his apparent grievances with his fingers. "One, yes, I'm pretty loaded if I do say so myself. The Potters come from a long line of bankers and that's that. No point in lying about it, right? Nothing to be ashamed of. Two, yes, I do live off my parents' money since I've yet to find a job which suits my interests. Three, pretentious? You be the judge of _that_. Lastly, if arrogance is unabashed self-confidence then yeah, damn straight I'm arrogant. But I'd rather have confidence than feel down about myself all the time, wouldn't you? And besides, it's hardly _my_ fault if know-it-all little morons with incurable social-ineptness like _Snape_ are jealous at the mere prospect of a self-assured young man of nineteen, now is it?"

Lily shook her head and tried to withhold a smile, an attempt which she discovered, to her dismay, was extremely difficult when James looked at her so seriously while simultaneously looking like an idiot with his hair a complete mess and smiling at Lily with a boyish, lopsided smile saccharine with innocence. "You really are something, aren't you, James Potter?"

"Ah! So my reputation precedes me!" James said excitedly, readjusting the tie on his forehead. "That's good to know."

"You'd best hope I don't judge you based on your reputation or else you'd be competing with Severus for the jerk title," Lily said tartly. "What a speech that was. You're absolutely shameless, aren't you?"

James suddenly clutched at his chest through his shirt and stumbled about, with a pained expression on his face. "You've wounded me!"

She watched him with embarrassment as he began to roll around on the grass making gruesome contorted facial expressions while still clinging to his invisible wound, ignoring the people nearby moving cautiously away from his convulsing form.

"You're such a ham!" Lily chortled, standing over him, her shadow covering his lean frame. "I sure admire Mrs. Potter for putting up with you for this long."

He stopped, opening one eye and then another before peering up at her with his tongue out, mouth slowly creeping into another smirk of his. She decided she hated when he did that. That crooked smile immediately warmed her cheeks and made her breathing wonky.

"Say, if you're alone you should enjoy the concert with me and the boys," James persuaded, now upright and running his hands through his black hair, capturing elusive blades of grass. He must have noticed her lack of interest because he quickly added with a challenging stare, "Or would you rather be alone, checking out your ever so lovely form in the grass?"

No, she'd rather not. She had no one else. Frank and Alice were likely still arguing, Evan probably already found some poor girl to harass, and Severus could be on the moon for all she knew.

"The boys?"

"Oozechi?"

"Sorry, Sirius, not all of us have the ability to talk completely out of our asses."

Lily watched as one of James's friends quickly swallowed his hotdog and nodded towards her.

"I _said _who's she?"

He had the looks of a heartthrob to any sane female on God's green earth: a classic  
look about him yet a little rough around the edges, almost as though he went out of his way to obtain such an appearance as it contrasted from his natural look of haughtiness and grandeur. His defined bone structure, tall stature, cold grey eyes, and a superior countenance could hardly be destroyed even by the crumbs around his mouth or the mustard smeared across his chin.

"You know that girl I was telling you about yesterday? Who I ran into at that shop?"

Sirius gave Lily another look over. "Oh, right! Red hair, a chest like Raquel Welch, and 'legs that went on for miles'," he nodded, and peered at her legs for confirmation before giving James a withering look. "Her legs aren't _that_ long. And nobody has a pair like Welch. Nobody."

Lily promptly folded her arms across her chest, slowly crossed her legs, and looked incredulously at James, who promptly punched Sirius in the shoulder. "You know, if I'd had known you were talking about me behind my back, acting like a chauvinistic pig I _never _would have agreed to come with you."

"You'll have to excuse my moron of a friend. He's got a big imagination and clearly a bit of a hearing problem. Lily, my idiot of a best friend Sirius. Sirius, Lily. Lily from Ohio!" he added as though Ohio was an exotic location like Bora Bora or somewhere highly refined and cultured like the south of France - not just south of Lake Erie.

Sirius gave her a little wave of acknowledgment before returning to his lunch.

"Where's Remus and Peter?" James asked, sitting down on the grass, patting the ground next to him for Lily to sit.

"Peter had to go take a piss," Sirius shrugged and finished the last of his food, licking his condiment-slathered fingers before wiping them on his jeans. "Forced Remus to go with him.

"Well, you know about him and Porta-Potties," James reminded.

"True," Sirius shrugged and lit a cigarette with an air of coolness Severus lacked tremendously. He was like a James Dean of the 1960's: some sort of pseudo-rebel without a cause. "I'd rather piss anywhere else than those things to be honest."

"You just like pissing places where you aren't supposed to. _Period_," James said, about to snatch one of Sirius's cigarettes until he saw the brand. "Man, Lucky Strikes _again_?"

"Fuck off," Sirius said, shoving James into the grass and exhaling.

James settled for the cigarettes. "Could you be any cheaper?"

"Where are _your_ cigarettes?"

"Forgot them," James said, searching through his pocket for a lighter.

"Then you can't complain," Sirius said, thrusting the cigarette carton in his face while James tried to light up. "These here are the _people's_ cigarettes. And they explain a lot, you know. Like the commercials say: 'Lucky Strike separates the men from the boys...but not from the girls.' Explains why I'm the one getting all the girls and you're not."

"What girls?"

"Shut up."

"And besides, it's a _commercial_. They're meant for you to believe that bullshit," James said, clearly miffed at any implication that he lacked competence in the art of attracting women.

"But I mean it was in the jingle. It _has_ to be true. Lying in commercials is probably illegal or something."

"Do you ever listen to what comes out of that pie hole of yours?"

"Oh, you're one to talk!" Sirius snorted. "Tell me, what was it that you said to that cop the other week?"

"That doesn't count."

"Damn straight it fucking counts."

"Says the guy who believes a television commercial with dancing cigarettes."

"'Sorry, officer. I didn't understand the speed limit sign. You see, I'm, er, illiterate, sir. Illiterate with numbers,'" Sirius mocked in an attempt to sound like James.

"At least I _tried_ to get out of a ticket. I just wasn't thinking through to my…full potential. You just wanted to start a criminal record."

"Oh, how disappointed Mother would be," Sirius said with a smile and another slow, long drag, eyes closing shut as he exhaled the tobacco: the epitome of relaxation.

"The people's cigarettes," James repeated with a snort. He took a drag, promptly offering Lily one as well. She accepted but quickly coughed and handed the cigarette back to James, blushing and feeling her eyes begin to water.

"Her eldest boy corrupted into a felon, eh? Just think of it! Me with my gangly, half-blind, candyass partner in crime," Sirius ended affectionately, ruffling James' hair before directing his attention to Lily, who sat idly by amongst the smoke, pulling at the grass and laughing quietly to herself at the dream team scenario. "So, James told me _you_ were with Snivellus yesterday. Hope he didn't get any grease on you. I hear it's contagious."

"You call Severus _Snivellus_?" Lily frowned. "Why?"

"He's a big sniveling baby, that's why," Sirius said as though such a fact was written in black marker across Severus's forehead. "You'll find out soon enough."

"I don't think that's very fair," Lily said defensively.

"Says the gal who is as far away as possible from him right now," James reminded her. She turned her head to face him, not quite sure how to respond. Something was at the tip of her tongue. Something rude, most likely; or snide. But she remained miserably tongue-tied, mouth slightly slack, and watched James quirk a smile at her speechlessness.

"Yes but…why _greasy_?"

"Have you even _seen_ his hair?" Sirius asked.

Whether she liked it or not, that pseudo-James Dean mustard-covered slob had a point.

To call these boys "men" would be disingenuous. Incredibly so. Though men on legal documents, though old enough to be shipped off to the other side of the world with a gun and a helmet and a perfume-scented letter in their breast pockets, the four boys—the Marauders they liked to call themselves—were still teenage boys. Teenage boys with sprouting facial hair, a blemish here and there, and boyish smiles; shameless discussions of sex, violent films, and jokes about flatulence were the talk of the day. However, the two newcomers were different from James and Sirius. Peter was a slightly chubby boy with blonde hair and watery blue eyes who seemed to idolize the very air James and Sirius breathed as he nibbled away at his sticky Cracker Jacks. He laughed at every joke spewing from their mouths and hung on their every word and ridiculous story. And yet, despite them ragging on him now and then, the others seemed to accept him into their group. Remus was quieter compared to the other three raucous boys. His skin was pale and dark circles lurked under his eyes, making him appear slightly sickly. His sandy-colored hair seemed trained to remain in a conservative short cut despite his clear intention of growing it out past his ear lobes. He was the only one of the boys who thought enough to talk to her about topics which didn't include bodily noises as the afternoon weaned away.

"Hey, you know that Owsley guy? Really weird, with the glasses and the brown hair," Sirius asked.

"Yeah, heard of him," James nodded.

"Isn't he in jail?" Remus said, stealing a handful of Peter's snack. Peter stared at Remus' hand as it traveled to his mouth. "I heard he was in jail."

"Well, he isn't today. Got something for us. The weirdo decided to name this batch Monterey Purple. Giving it away like it was candy," Sirius grinned, holding up a small plastic bag of small pills. He glanced at Lily and scoffed. "I guess for you too if you're willing. But you don't really strike me as the type."

"I'm already a type?" Lily retorted. "And what type would that be? Female unlike you all?"

"Hey, hold it. Don't get all _feminist _and Joan of Arc and all that shit on me for no reason. I meant the type wouldn't be dropping acid with strangers," Sirius replied.

"Get that stick out of your ass and let her at it," James said and took another drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out with a frown.

Sirius picked through the bag and handed Lily two of the pills into her palm. She stared at the two little pills, feeling a heavy weight of mystery, intrigue, and worry put upon her. Moving the pills around her palm, she examined the color and shape before looking back at Sirius with a guarded look.

"Go ahead, prove you're so brave," Sirius coaxed with a handsome, toothy smile. "Surprise me."

Lily stared evenly back at him, aware of the less than friendly tension officially drawn between them. "Well," she sighed. "Here goes nothing."

She picked up one pill and quickly, gingerly placed it on her tongue and swallowed it, eyes crinkled shut as it traveled down her throat.

"So take one now and—"

Lily, not listening, tossed the second into her mouth and took a deep swig of her Coke.

"—take the second one later."

She nearly spit out the soda as she heard the boys clap and hoot with laughter. "_What?_"

"Somebody was eager!" Sirius exclaimed, slapping his knee and throwing his head back with more laughter. "Well, _this_ should be interesting."

"If it makes you feel any better," Remus said, accepting the bag and taking out a pill when it was passed to him. "I don't think it'll work much faster. You all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Lily sighed, shaking her head and cringing at the lingering acrid taste stimulating her taste buds.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

"Don't sweat it, Red. You probably won't drop dead," Sirius said, swallowing his first pill ostentatiously and stubbed his now nearly non-existent cigarette on the heel of his black ankle boots. "Ha, that rhymed."

--

She finally understood why people raved about this drug. _Really_ understood.

It was truly extraordinary, the power in those two tiny tart pills.

At first the four boys and Lily continued to lounge around the tree, on their backs or sides, or climbing trees (Sirius), listening to the music in the background. After over half an hour of sitting and waiting for this so called "amazing, out of this world, positively groovy experience" no such results came. But it came eventually, starting from the tips of her toes and moving slowly north like an elevator in an old hotel. Her world as she once knew it slowly became brighter, as though the colors and their respected hues were playing a game with her.

Lily's surroundings resembled a child's coloring book, with bright markers and crayons coloring outside the lines and much brighter than they would appear in real life. She found herself spinning round and round in small circles to watch the flowers of her dress move and shudder as if blown by the wind or gathered in a large armful and thrown up in the air, then gliding to the earth below. When she grew bored of such mind tricks and her calves grew tired, she pulled out from her purse the book she found in the trunk of Frank's van. She read biting her lip, never gazing upon words and lines and stanzas so provocative and daring in her life or so blatantly sexualized and yet so thought provoking. Lines stuck out to her like sore thumbs as they stared at her on the page, and the lifeless black print was so _alive_ on the milky white paper. The writing wasn't just any sort of "poetry" as Alice flatly described. It was more than just describing lavender strewn moors or love; it was a raw experience not purely meant to be interpreted or picked apart metaphor by metaphor, simile by simile, or stanza by stanza. It was meant to be appreciated. She felt like weeping, unsure whether to feel empowered or to wallow in the caliber of gritty, unadulterated sincerity.

She closed the book and turned onto her stomach while James lay on his back, eyes closed and smiling. Lily caught sight of James's plaid shirt, the pattern and lines moving like liquid streams of different colors; the red like lava, and not the lava you make up as a child, jumping and hopping from furniture piece to furniture piece pretending the floors are lethal molten rock. No, _real_ lava. She wondered if it would hurt to touch, burn her, so she lightly fingered his shirt.

She felt no heat and suddenly felt incredibly silly.

Yet she reveled in the feel of it beneath her finger tips. The material felt so unrefined, the shallow grooves of the shirt making all the difference.

"Lily?"

"Mmmhm," she replied.

"Are you groping my shirt?" he asked, opening one eye to peer down at her. She was enthralled, fondling the fabric with serious consideration.

"I like it," she said. "It reminds me of childhood."

"Did you ever live in Scotland?"

"No."

"Maybe you did in a past life. And you were, I don't know, eaten by the Loch Ness Monster. You can see it in that cloud right there," James said, pointing at a fluffy white cloud above them.

"That doesn't look like Loch Ness."

"No, no, no, you have to squint," James insisted, narrowing his eyes so tightly until they were nearly closed.

Neither talked for a while, and Lily simply engaged herself with the wind hitting her face, and how each breeze felt like a million little fingers tickling her skin and lightly brushing her hair, sending shivers up and down her spine. Her senses were on fire. But that was the point of this drug, wasn't it?

"You know how people say the world is so big and we're so small and all that?" James asked quietly, just after a loud thump from behind them; likely Sirius falling from the tree.

"Yes."

"I've never liked that bullshit. Yes, I'm small in comparison to the universe; that's the most fucking obvious fact of all time. But why do people have negate their existence like that? They shouldn't feel so helpless. They shouldn't feel like they can't make a difference in the world just because of the stars mocking you. That's the problem with people. They think too small. They think that they're so helpless. If that's so true why is it that even the smallest groups of people can change history and laws? Huh? Explain _that_ to me. Once people stop thinking they can't contribute something to the world, and I don't just mean big things, even…you know…little things, then maybe we'll start being happier people. I want to look back at this time, this moment when I'm old with gray hair coming out of my ears, and feel like we made a difference."

Lily removed herself from James's shirt and stared at him very seriously, eventually leaning in closer to his ear and with a broad grin breathed, "My sister would hate you."

The day dragged on and turned into evening. Lily danced to the combination of vibrations and jazzy tunes of trumpets from Hugh Masekela's band and contemplated the never-ending stream of sound from the far away stage. Contemplated the brass, their construction, their golden hue and how _bright_ it was under the stage lights as the sun began to set over Monterey seaside town and its loaded festival grounds. She pondered who made the trumpet, how it was invented, and where the materials came from; how the players' fingers and lungs never wore out from strain and long use.

The sunset was mind blowing. Her mother told her staring at the sun for too long would make you blind, and Lily believed her until that evening when staring at the sun forced her to finally see and appreciate its beauty. After cool darkness chased away the light, and two rather lackluster performances left the stage, Lily and the Marauders made their way to the main seating area to watch Jefferson Airplane perform. The perfect structure of the uncomfortable white metal chairs soon fell apart as more and more started to stand rather than sit and budge their way as close as they could to the stage.

And there was Slick, bangs and headband giving an impression of innocence, yet her voice demonstrated something wise and strong beyond her years. Her strength and chemistry with the audience was impeccable, and Lily was suddenly overwhelmed with gratefulness at such close proximity to one of the most talented, most beautiful women she'd ever seen. She stood transfixed, lips moving along to the songs but utterly intoxicated with the sounds filling her ears and the lights of red and yellow and orange.

The last song was accompanied with dull hues of white and gray and electrifying blue spread across the band and those close enough to see each meticulous move she made. For the first time in what felt like hours, she felt James nudge her.

"If you look at the blue light long enough it looks green," James said. "_Your_ eyes are green. But not blue first. I wonder why."

"Why my eyes are green?"

By now they were nearly whispering, reading each other's mouths. She felt him respond with a firm "yes" rather than heard the word tumble from his lips.

"I don't know. God's fault," Lily replied, half listening to James, half to the music. Neither were in synch.

"We only blame God when things are wrong. Your eyes aren't _wrong_. They're just _green_."

His hands were on her face now, his slightly pointed nose incredibly close to her own. She gasped at the sudden grasp and felt the warm air from his nostrils, his breath sweltering, causing her to shiver in a flurry of sensations. She felt the elevator moving earlier slowly travel back south to an end. But she suddenly wanted to touch him, feel him before her high was over. Her fingers gently touched the inside of his elbow, causing the skin there to prickle up and tighten into goosebumps.

His hands were on her hips, warming her hipbones through her thin dress as he swayed back and forth to the beautiful wailing voice in the background, gently rubbing Lily's cheek. This spontaneous attraction they both savored as they touched one another provided an odd sense of comfort despite their lack of familiarity.

"Your freckles are…"

"Yes?"

"They're moving."

"You should catch them then."

"You're right," James nodded, and promptly squeezed her cheeks between his dry, calloused palms. "Got them!"

Her pinned face made it hard to respond the least bit coherently.

"You have a nice face, Lily."

She knew her face couldn't possibly look lovely squished together like that.

He finally released her, proudly declaring, "They're not moving anymore."

The band was done with the set, if the clapping and hooting and Sirius's enthusiastic screams clearly heard amongst the thousands of others was any indication. As the stage crew changed sets, preparing for the next group, Lily suddenly felt a pang at her stomach; an onset of nausea.

"I think I'm going to…" Lily gasped and covered her mouth with her right hand as she attempted to escape the sea of people and clapping and white chairs. Her head ached as she pushed her way past bodies and annoyed shouts of, "Hey!" and, "Watch it!" She couldn't apologize; the slightest movement of her tongue would result in messy consequences. She had to get back towards the grass. She had to lay down. She had to stop the back of her throat from trembling so.

"Wait, slow down!" she heard from behind her, in front of her, to the left, to the right, the sky, the earth below her brown sandals. She wasn't quite sure where, nor did she really care because that voice wasn't going to make the urge to vomit leave.

Lily staggered past the bodies and tripped over chair legs before she finally reached the grass with tears stinging in her eyes. She found a large pine tree and collapsed beside it, moaning.

"Hey, hey," she felt someone shake her. It was James. "You don't look well."

Nor did she feel well. The vibrations and sounds of the music throbbed, pulsing through her ears as the next band began to perform already. She gripped her stomach again.

"I think I'm sick," Lily gasped. "I think I'm sick."

"You _did_ take two tablets," James said, falling slowly from his high as well as he watched Lily crawl towards the nearest trashcan and throw up. Her fingers gripped the steel rim, and she felt the urge to hurl again as the day's old garbage mixed with her own result of the day's festivities. Dizziness ensued as she removed her head from the can and gripped it tightly.

"It was fun while it lasted?" James chuckled, but cringed as his laugh was interrupted with another round of puking. She raised her head out of the trash and glared at him over her shoulder, wanting to throttle him for trying to cheer her up at such an inappropriate juncture of the evening as the effects of the drugs waned but remained present and made her feel incredibly disoriented. But he was right: it _was_ fun while it lasted.

"Hold my hair back," she said as she felt herself ready to throw up again.

He did.

By the time Lily stopped vomiting, the last performer of the night was starting his set, which, from where Lily and James were walking, seemed to inspire quite a bit of movement.

"Who's on now?" Lily asked hoarsely, making a sickened face as she chugged another coke in hopes of removing the acidic taste from her mouth. "You know?"

"Otis Redding, I think. Sounds like it from here and his name was on the posters. There's a record store I go to in the city with _the_ best soul albums in the city, I'm telling you. Played this guy in the store the other week. He's great! And he just makes you want to—" James took Lily by the hand and attempted to spin her around. "—dance."

"Don't make me throw up again," Lily warned.

"Feeling better?"

"Not entirely, no."

"Good enough. Let's get up there."

The two found Sirius, Remus, and Peter where they left them, her hours-long high now diminished and instead of heightened sensory or intense colors, she saw and listened for what it was. She moved her feet and her hips along with the drums, the guitars, and the soulful tunes, never wanting the music to end, and feeling utterly enthralled by his last song of the night. And with a great roar from the ground and a final strike of the instruments, Redding said his goodbyes and the crowd began to disperse.

"Fantastic, that man." Sirius smiled broadly, arms around Remus and Peter's shoulders. "Fantastic. If only I could move my hips like that. I mean, _wow_. Did you see his _hips move_? You know, guys, we should practice tonight. I bet I'm best at it."

Everyone seemed to either loiter around the grounds, smoking, or huddle in sleeping bags, the few scattered tents, or head back to their cars to sleep. It didn't take long before Sirius and James started to walk and wrestle at the same time.

"Well, it's been," Lily started, watching Sirius manage to get James into a headlock on the ground, "an _interesting_ day. Nice meeting you all but I've got to go find the people I got here with."

"I'll help!" James offered, half-strangled but determined to escape from Sirius' clutches. "Catch up with you guys later at the car."

"Oh, you really don't have to—"

"Chivalry isn't dead to a Potter," James said as he stood and brushed himself off somewhat daintily, comically sweeping off tiny particles of dust. "Two heads are better than one. So who are we looking for? Snivellus and company?"

"Oh, stop with that silly name, already," Lily said with a cringe, feeling the damp sea air chilling her arms and legs. She shivered.

"Cold, huh?" James noticed, and took off his flannel. "You seemed to take a liking to it earlier."

"It's lost its flair," she replied, but eagerly wrapped it around her shoulders and chest. It was warm and smelled like him, and for a boy it was rather pleasant. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said, smiling as they walked through the noisy grounds. The dozens of flash lights and haze of smoke made the shadows and incessant chatter eerie during their search in the dark.

"I'm starting to think you just like doing things for me," Lily noted, glancing up at him but quickly returning her focus in front of her when she saw him looking back at her. His overabundance of confidence should have bothered her, and it did, but she couldn't help but enjoy his presence; or at least not mind it. But what worried her was the fact that she felt shy when he looked at her. Lily figured she was just out of her element: she wasn't normally so shy.

Another part of her wanted to scream for being so trusting of the people Severus seemed to know more about than she. She was too naïve for her own good. And yet the littlest quirk of James' lips or regard of his warm hazel eyes made his glaring faults—_her_ glaring faults and lack of judgment—seem irrelevant. _At least he's nice to you_, she told herself. _Unlike Severus_.

"Lily! We've been looking all over for you!"

The two spotted Alice jogging up to them with a flashlight in her hand. She immediately rubbed Lily's shoulder. "Hi, James," Alice added.

"Alice." James nodded. "How's that tailbone? Still smarting?"

"Its fine, thanks." Alice flushed, lightly touching the small of her back. "I guess I have you to thank for that. So what are you two doing together? Both lost?"

"Actually, I ended up spending the whole day with this oaf," Lily said.

"Oh, but it was this oaf's pleasure. And look," James said, pointedly nodding his chin in front of him. "The party's really getting started now."

Lily looked up to see Severus stalking up to them in his awkward, slump-shouldered gait.

"What the hell are _you _doing here?" Severus spat. He looked absolutely livid.

"Came just to see your shining face, Snivellus," James bit back with a nasty, false smile. "But unfortunately I suddenly feel like puking."

Severus glanced at Lily and then James…then Lily again…and then James.

"Were you with _him_ all day?" Severus asked, gesturing wildly towards James. "Or was he just stalking you? Wouldn't put it past him. Want me to alert the pigs?"

"As a matter of fact, _Severus_, I _did _spend the day with him," Lily said defiantly.

"She had nobody else to be with but herself and her shadow, after all," James said wryly.

"Shadow? _Shadow_? You had us, you know," Severus told her.

"Oh yeah, like I was _really_ going to go off with the likes of you after what you said to me in the van," Lily scoffed.

"What did he say about you?" James asked.

"None of your business," Severus and Lily said simultaneously, glaring at each other.

"Well, here you are," James said, clapping his hands together and bowed slightly at the waist. "I'll hopefully see you tomorrow, eh?"

"Says who?" said Severus, whose voice was now breaking as he looked at James like he sprouted two heads.

"Says me!" Lily defended and addressed James again. "Tomorrow then."

"Goodnight kiss?"

James shifted his weight to his left foot as he leaned comically puckered lips down towards Lily, awaiting a puckered reply.

"Don't get carried away," Lily said, pushing him lightly in the chest so he'd lose his balance.

"You never fail to wound me, Lily Evans," James crooned, touching his chest and walking backwards slowly with a mischievous smile. "Well, goodnight! You, too, Alice. And greasy dreams, _Snivellus_."

James sauntered off with a spring in his step and the trio stood watching him until he became lost in the bustling crowd.

Alice looked at Severus angrily as they began to head back to the area Alice had staked out for them to sleep. "You and James just can't keep your emotions in check, can you?"

"What happened to five o'clock?" Severus suddenly reminded Lily. "We said we'd meet at the van at—"

"Five o'clock, I know. I just lost track of time," Lily said. "Last I checked that wasn't a crime."

"Stupid, idiotic, son of a—" Severus huffed as they walked back to the group's small circle where they'd be sleeping tonight. In the darkness Lily could see moonlight shining on Severus' cold sweat on his forehead and his eyebrows were tightly knitted. Severus's thin lips were downturned like a child's pout with much stronger emotion tied to it than dissatisfaction. "What do you see in him anyway?"

"I don't see _anything_ in him."

"You two sure looked _chummy_."

_What is with these boys and the word "chummy"?_

"Give it a _rest_, Sev!" Alice snapped. "Leave her alone. She's _fine._ No need to be paranoid like you usually are."

Lily sighed as she glanced at Severus, incredibly frustrated. "He and his friends showed me a good time, that's all."

"What sort of a good time?" he pressed. "Or rather, what drug?"

"And how do you know drugs were involved?"

"Well we're _here_. So what was it?"

"What is _with_ you clucking at me like a mother hen? Like my _own_ mother!" Lily groaned. "Fine, Monterey Purple mean anything to you?"

"You dropped acid with _that_ clan of idiots? Are you crazy or just stupid?"

"At least they didn't act as though a genuine apology was just an attempt to bulk up my own confidence and sexual repertoire," Lily said. "So I'd say that's already a step up from you."

"I—"

"And for your information, you're absolutely right, he's the most arrogant person I've ever met, BUT—" Lily emphasized when Severus opened his mouth. "He had the decency to at least try to help me when I felt sick. And once you get past the superiority complex and the bad jokes he wasn't all that bad. And we even danced a bit. I think."  
"High off your asses."

"And what were _we_ last night?"

"Well, I hope you're happy," Severus snarled, throwing her sleeping bag at her. "You've got four new idiots to call friends."

"They _aren't_ my friends," Lily repeated. "They're boys I spent the day with. They were completely…harmless."

"Harmless, sure," Severus said, fishing out a cigarette from his pocket and promptly lighting it. "You're just another one of their little playthings. Potter and his lemmings'll chew you up and spit you out like the other girls they use for a week or two."

"You don't know what you're talking about. I'm going to bed," Lily said, trying and failing to ignore his last comment. She turned her head towards him, red lips parted ever so slightly. She licked her lips quickly and sighed. "I would say good-night, but I don't think you deserve it."

She threw down her bag, looked through her sack for some warm pajama bottoms, and settled into the bag on the soft grass. It was hardly what one would call quiet, and it likely wouldn't be for hours. The big black sleeping bag was huge but felt safe as she burrowed into it, idly staring out the opening at vague flashes of light and feet and grass and smoke and damp fog rolling in. Just as her eyes began to droop, with a start she realized she was still wearing James's warm red and yellow plaid shirt and vaguely wondered if he purposefully forgot to get it back from her or if it was an accident caused by the sudden hullaballoo between him and Severus.

And yet, she found herself not caring, and engulfed in that unique smell of clean boy and grass stains she fell asleep happy.

--


	3. June 18, 1967 Day Three

**Title:** Where the Flowers Bloom  
**Pairing:** James/Lily, Severus/Lily | Lily's POV for the most part  
**Rating:** R  
**Word Count:** 6,883  
**Summary:** The psychedelic summer of 1967 was more than just free love, protests, and Sgt. Pepper. It was more than just R-E-S-P-E-C-T, draft card burning, and "turned on" consciousness in the streets of San Francisco. For Lily Evans, that madcap summer was an escape.  
**Warning:** AU, drug use, sexuality, language, damn dirty hippies, and overt 60s references and slang you may want to look up. Oh, and they're American, if that wasn't obvious already).  
**Disclaimer:** I obviously don't own HP.  
**A/N:** It's been about seven months but I FINALLY finished this chapter. School got in the way a lot as well as a general lack of inspiration but I'm a lot more focused now so expect more frequent updates. Er, God willing. And thanks to **lavinialavender** and **yemeron** for betaing this for me To see photos from this chapter and the others, visit Accio_Salmon LJ, which is linked in my profile! Oh, and about my other WIP...well, I have another chapter done that I must find on another computer but otherwise, I don't know when or if I'll finish it. It's been ages and I'm still thinking about it. My writing style has changed so much since then and I started **The Long and Winding Road** when I was 14...I'll probably still do some more with it eventually but don't expect any updates anytime soon, I'll tell you that flat out. But I REALLY hope you all enjoy this!

* * *

Lily's nose was burrowed in the crook of her drool-slathered elbow and her throat was sore. Her body rested on her right hand all night, leaving it numb and painful as she tried to make a fist. With a turn of her head, she was startled to see none other than Rosier's sleeping form next to her own.

She stared at his nose, examining the gentle motions of his nostrils as he breathed in and out, the guttural, wet noises coming from his throat, and the bobbing of his Adam's apple. As surprising as the sight was, she felt a surge of human connectivity towards him: the bastard was just like everyone else as he slept, as he had no audience to harass, no women to offend, no pants to strangle his privates. He was human despite acting like a Neanderthal when conscious.

She crawled out of her sleeping bag and was met with flat, unremarkable grayness. People were lounging in warm cars and vans or huddling in their sleeping bags, avoiding the frigid air. The grounds were sleepy, quiet with whispers and rare trickles of loud laughter, the explosive sounds of guitars and applause dormant until the sun came out.

"He moves a lot in his sleep." Severus was up, already dressed, and, of course, had a cigarette in his hand; strong, unfiltered Marlboro bobbing between his fingers. A crumbled piece of paper and a pen lay in front of him next to a book Lily was unable to decipher the title of. He looked vulnerable in the dark, grey light and tapped his foot while he smoked impatiently, as though trying to achieve something with each hurried exhale. His unkempt hair didn't ease his complexion.

"Evan?" she asked, straightening out her gravelly, stinging throat. She already knew the answer.

"But it _was_ amusing watching the two of you drooling all over each other."

Lily rubbed the dried saliva from the corner of her mouth with the heel of her hand, smearing the faint rouge of yesterday's lipstick along with it.

"Well it wasn't exactly amusing waking up to," Lily admitted. "What time is it?"

"Nine thirteen," Severus said, glancing at his watch with the sad, weathered brown wrist band. "Counting down the hours until you're back with the merry band of idiots?"

"I don't know _when_ or _if_ I'll see them at all," Lily said as she searched through her large bag for a brush. Severus snorted.

"I'm sure Potter'll find some way to find you," he sneered around his cigarette. "He's persistent."

Lily didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing she concurred. The little she knew of James told her that he wasn't the sort to give up on anything, let alone a promise. And by now he must know she had his flannel.

"Can't do anything without having everything his way, after all," Severus continued, blowing out smoke quickly between his thin lips. Lily was too distracted by his angular fingers, the blue veins along transparent skin and the white cigarette between thin fingers to garner up a response. He turned to her with a false smile which came out as a grimace. "And now you're his new little fix. Congratulations."

"You hate him so much and yet you're always going on about him," Lily pointed out. "It's like you're obsessed or something."

She gave him a shrewd smile with a faint sense of satisfaction as she watched Severus' face scrunch up, ready to retort.

"I'm not obsessed with that trust-fund WASP of a brat," he said flatly.

"Sure," she said, glancing up at him as she finally found the brush.

"You know what? I don't _get_ you," Severus said, squinting and leaning in ever so slightly towards her.

"What's there not to get? You obviously like to design puzzles for yourself," Lily said, wincing as the brush caught a particularly thick knot.

"Why are you living with a bunch of strangers in the middle of San Francisco—a place people from _your _neck of the woods must think to be the sin capital of the country by now—when you look like you could have just won prom queen? And on day one you got a place to stay and everybody is already a fan of little Miss Ohio '67. You're just…weird."

"Oh yes, Severus. Trying to make friends is _so_ out of the ordinary," Lily said drolly, lips quirking as she noticed him roll his eyes. She stood up to stretch before dragging her sleeping bag closer to his and sat down again. "What did _you_ do when you came here?"

"I'll tell you what I didn't do: I didn't find somewhere to stay the second I got here like you," Severus said, pointing at her with his smoking hand accusingly. "You didn't just jump in to take what came at you like I had to. _You_ cheated."

"You think this is some sort of damn _game_? I didn't want to end up on the _street_!" Lily said in disbelief. "Who knows what could have—"

Severus opened his mouth as if to make a snide statement but quickly closed it, a split second decision Lily caught instantly. "What? What were you going to say?"

"Nothing that would progress this _enthralling_ conversation."

"Just spit it out."

"So you'd spend one night in the cold, big fucking deal. There are people living on the street every damn day, and I'm sure you wouldn't have been the first one in a dress to do the same."

"You never know what sort of people could—" She stopped herself; Severus would have more ammo to depict her as a self-induced damsel in distress, tied to the train tracks by her own hand. "Nothing, forget it, you're right. But what's the point? You're just going to have to deal with me in the house."

"You aren't something to deal with exactly," Severus said before pulling the cigarette up to his dry lips again. "You're just weird."

"Should you _really_ be the one defining weird?" Lily asked with a small laugh. "No offense, but you aren't exactly mister conformity, nor what I'd call normal."

"Never said I was," he said with a hint of pride in his voice, chin slightly elevated. "But who isn't conforming now? I mean, look around you. Over half the people here probably just went to their local second hand store and bought half the shit and beads they're wearing because it's a fad. It's all a big fad and good luck trying to find many legitimate people out here."

He lit another cigarette. "Most of these morons are a bunch of middle class brats looking for a fun way to rebel against their conservative parents. Ask any of these saps who…I don't know…Allen Ginsburg is and they'll look like a fish out of fucking water. Met some bastard yesterday who said he goes to some Ivy League or another, didn't even know who the fuck Mario Savio is and called himself a student activist. Talk about rich. I can see somebody like _you_ not knowing these things but—"

"I'll have you know that I know who he is, thank you very much. We do get LIFE and TIME magazine in Ohio. He was always getting arrested and making speeches. Petunia made all sorts of rude comments about it all, calling him a Communist or something."

"Am I supposed to know who Petunia is?"

"You'd be better off not knowing. But if you must, she's my older sister. I'd rather keep it at that."

Severus shrugged and took another drag. "The music is fine but it's nearly ruined by all the idiots roaming around, acting like smoking grass and dropping acid gives them more credibility."

"Hey, you said you came out here a couple years ago. Why'd you leave home?" Lily asked, tiring of Severus' tirade and interrupting before he could go further.

"You've got nerve asking me when you haven't answered that yourself," Severus said. "But unlike you, I have nothing to hide."

"Everybody has something to hide, Severus," Lily said sagely. "I thought you were supposed to be smart."

"When you're not being overly optimistic and annoyingly curious you're a real smart ass. You know that, right?"

"I prefer cheeky. But go on."

"Well..." He was stalling: his scalp was suddenly itchy, he suddenly needed three consecutive drags from his cigarette, and Evan's snoring distracted him.

"_Yes?"_ Lily pressed.

"I grew up in here in California, the southern half. Mom stays at home, doesn't work. Dad repairs things."

"Are they happily married?"

Severus paused and, while taking another slow drag of the Marlboro, regarded Lily coldly before staring at his left palm. "Do you really think that's relevant?"

Lily reddened.

"She—Mom—wanted to be famous for some reason. Have her name and handprints in the sidewalk. Wasted her life away on a dream of having her body parts printed in wet cement for people to step on and spit on and for dogs to piss on. Somewhere along the way she met Dad. She was doing well with her performances apparently; doing background singing and dancing in movies, even had a talking part once. One line I bet. Point is she could support herself while Dad was broke. But she had a fall one day during rehearsal and hurt her knee. It took too long to heal and, as the story goes, by that time she was over and her dancing wasn't the same."

"But she could still sing couldn't she?"

Severus scoffed. "It's not the 40s and she's no Ginger Roberts in the looks department anymore, especially after having a kid. She'd be the first to admit it so don't look so offended. I was sure you'd have realized by _now_ that I'm not the sugarcoating type. In show business you can't just be good at one thing. You have to have most if not all of the package or nothing. A singer who can't dance is like a guy with no legs racing a car. You can forget about it."

"That's terrible. I'm sorry," Lily said. She couldn't imagine having a dream like that obliterated over a twist of fate.

"Don't apologize to _me_," he said. "_My_ future doesn't depend on the stability of my right fucking knee."

"So when did you come along in all this?" she asked before he could have another excuse to go off.

"A year later I guess. Math adds up."

He paused and drew his lips together tightly as he stared, emotionless, at Lily's bare left knee, foot continuing to nervously tap the ground in an erratic pattern.

"Why am I even telling _you _this?" he scoffed. "It doesn't fucking matter anyway. Especially not to you. Completely fucking pointless. What are you going to do, huh, turn back the clock a good 20 years and fix her knee?"

"I thought you had nothing to hide," she said, poking his arm and undeterred by his scathing tone. "Go on, I'm interested."

"You're a good liar."

"Actually I'm crap at it."

Still staring at her knee, he flicked away light grey ashes and took another long drag before continuing. "She used pills for the knee pain but let's just say she takes them whenever she feels like it."

Lily nodded slowly, understanding. She'd never heard of a grown woman with a drug problem. Marilyn Monroe came to her mind, but she was famous and posed naked in magazines; an icon who stood over subway vents with the skirt of her dress rippling around her. Severus' mother was more real, more tangible.

"Dad isn't much better but he prefers shit you have to open with a church key. They're both wrecks. She's always falling asleep, never paying attention to a damn thing. She nearly burned down the fucking house when she fell asleep while ironing. _Ironing._" Severus let out a short, forced chuckle before regaining his steely composure. "But at least she _tried_ to be a parent, unlike my good-for-nothing father who thinks that teaching you how to ride a bike and shave is all you need to do to be a good parent."

Lily regretted the pleasure she felt at his expense earlier as she realized just how dysfunctional his family life was. He flicked more ashes into the grass with blindingly fast speed.

"So why did you leave home?"

"What I've told you isn't enough reason to you?" Severus asked with another laugh lacking an ounce of humor.

"What was the breaking point?" Lily corrected herself. "I'm just curious."

"You really get off to doom and gloom, don't you?"

"Oh, don't say that," she winced.

"Mom wanted me to go off to school and be a doctor or a lawyer or something else completely ridiculous. I had good grades, I'm smart, and I could have gotten into whatever college I wanted. But I didn't want to go to school and become another tool for perpetuating capitalist bullshit and turn into another suit. My father would have forced me to go in the business with him if I didn't go to college and I'd rather cut my balls off, frankly. And I couldn't stand the two of them arguing. I had enough, so I left right after I graduated. I was legally allowed to so why the fuck not? Maybe being away is what those two needed. But I still write to Mom when I can. She at least deserves that much."

"Yeah, I know," Lily said.

"You know what?"

_Shit_. "What?"

"What do you know about?"

Lily licked her lips. "Okay, I saw a letter you were writing to her, your mom. It was on your bed yesterday. But I swear I didn't really read it."

"So you're a snooper," Severus said, glaring at her. He took another drag and mumbled, "Great. That's pretty fucking reassuring. Curiosity killed the cat, you know."

"Well, my first life is up. I suspect I've got eight more snooping opportunities left in me." Severus rolled his eyes. Lily grinned.

---

In Lily's opinion, Sirius Black would be a shoe-in for the eighth wonder of the world. Hands down, no questions asked, no contest.

"What _is_ his problem?" Lily hissed. "What did _I_ do?"

Lily and Remus sat on the prickly grass of the festival grounds, both idly licking away at vanilla ice cream while the rest of the boys went off to do something Lily found ridiculous and Remus found a waste of recently purchased dessert. Lily toyed with her new wooden-beaded, rainbow-colored necklaces while her companion regarded the different incense sticks he bought from one of the dozens of booths, squinting at each unique stick as if he were a scientist peering upon a rare specimen under a microscope.

He shrugged unconvincingly as ice cream dripped onto his jeans. "I don't know."

"What do you _think_ his problem is?"

"I think…" Remus started, carefully calculating how he phrased his wording, mulling over proper construction like a crude thought transforming into an epiphany. He took another lick and with an apologetic smile he said, "I think that he feels threatened by you, actually."

"How on earth…"

After twenty-four hours of knowing Sirius Black, "threatened", by a girl whom he has known for just as long - would be the last word she'd associate with him. He was always joking at the expense of others, was shamelessly confident, and flirted to a degree Lily believed should be illegal in the state of California. He was loaded like James, but unlike his partner in crime he was the black sheep of a prestigious family. The Blacks were old money, no nonsense, and according to some of the more colorful stories Sirius and James shared, they demonstrated questionable ethics. She found out he had a younger brother still attending the boarding school at which Sirius and James had met years ago. The two were troublemakers from the get go, causing havoc at the institution and yet managing to graduate at the top of their classes. Sirius was initially forced by his "mad bitch of a mother" to continue an Ivy League Black legacy, but after one day he dropped out, packed his bags, and traveled the country with James before settling in San Francisco and meeting Remus and Peter after their travels. His mother disowned him.

Underneath the nice hair and cigarettes was clearly a far less glamorous family life. However it didn't justify his behavior towards her in Lily's mind.

"It's dripping," Remus warned.

Lily swiftly licked at the vanilla slithering down her thumb.

"Sirius is protective of James, I guess. They've known each other for years, been _best friends_ for years. Maybe he's afraid of a girl getting in the way. I don't know."

Lily laughed in disbelief. "Oh come on, Remus. He's afraid of James' relentless flirting? That makes no sense. Sirius does an awful lot of it himself."

Remus shrugged. "You asked me what I _think_ his problem is. And besides, Sirius' mind doesn't work like normal human beings. He baffles me daily. But don't let it bother you: it's just Sirius!"

"That's a bit difficult when he's constantly looking at you like you're…you're…"

"Like you're some kind of threat," Remus finished for her knowingly and took a final bite of the sugary cone, finishing it off. "'He'll 'ome 'ound."

"You think?"

He swallowed and sniffed a particularly strong incent stick too deeply, causing him to cough out, "Honestly?"

"Yes."

"Not anytime soon, no."

Lily gave Remus a withering look and finished her cone. "By the way, aren't you boiling?"

"Boiling?"

"You're wearing a turtleneck. It must be 80 degrees out here."

Remus looked down at himself and thumbed the blue cotton material somewhat mournfully.

"I like turtlenecks," he told his chest.

--

James managed to acquire some cheap face paint, and Peter was the only one with the nerve to complete her request to have a flower painted on her right and left cheeks. Though elementary—a typical yellow center with multi-colored, inconsistently shaped and elongated petals—it would do.

"You know, Peter," Lily started as she looked at her cheeks in the mirror. "You aren't half bad at face painting. Thanks."

"I could have done that," James said while Sirius concentrated on painting his cheek. "Better job, even."

"But you didn't," Lily pointed out. "Looks like Pete here is the only one _man enough_ to do the job."

Peter snickered. "Yeah, I'm the only one man enough."

The corner of James' mouth quirked and his eyebrows rose. "Man enough, huh? Should we tell the lady here about a certain Chatty Kathy?"

Peter's mouth contorted as he tried to defend himself before he whined, "That was _one_ time. I have a sister, you know that."

"It was twice but sure, Pete," James chuckled, moving sharply to grab Peter around the neck with his arm and gave him a wet willie. Lily watched as Peter's limbs flailed around and both boys laughed. There were many things about the male specimen she would never be able to wrap her head around, and sticking a wet, saliva-slathered finger into a friend's ear was one of them.

"Uncle! Uncle!" Peter shouted through heavy chuckles.

"Stop moving, panty waist," Sirius told James. His hands were covered in black face paint, smudged on his fingernails and the side of his nose. Sirius had already taken full advantage of the Monterey spirit by the looks of him: some girls gave him flowers to stick in his hair, dark shades dangled from the collar of his shirt, and a joint was tucked neatly behind his right ear. Lily even saw a mark along his neck, either of lipstick or a hickey or both.

"Are you about done, Van Gogh?" James asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Sirius grinned. "Done…now. Voila!"

"It takes you THAT long to paint a damn airplane?" James asked with utter exasperation, as though forty-five seconds was a painstakingly gruelingamount of time.

He turned towards the others and Lily immediately held her breath

"Well?" James said. "How does it look?"

"Oh." Lily tried to suppress an avalanche of laughter as she stared at him with her head tilted to the side, marveling in Sirius' ability to get away with painting an incredibly crude, limp penis on James' left cheek with an arrow pointing towards his mouth. "I guess it's alright for an airplane."

"It better be," James said.

"Hey, Remus, be a pal and take a picture of me and James, huh?" Sirius said, grinning like a maniac as he put his arm around James. Just as Remus pressed the button, Sirius turned his head and gave James a sloppy kiss on the cheek opposite of the offending painting.

"Hey!" James wiped the saliva away with the back of his hand.

"We're supposed to be all about free love spirit and all that bullshit, right?" Sirius smirked. He then pulled a rolled joint out of his back pocket, lit it, and took a hit before passing it to James. "When in Rome!"

---

By the end of the night, Lily had one too many musical heroes for her repertoire. They ranged from Joplin's powerful performance that late afternoon to The Who destroying their equipment, and especially Hendrix lighting his guitar on fire after his nimble fingers _flowed_ across six strings like nothing she'd ever seen before. His gravity-defying hair and flamboyant style of a ruffled white shirt, embroidered navy vest, red pants and other eccentric accessories were unforgettable; he was the epitome of a show-stopper. Everyone in the crowd went wild as the bright flames rose higher and higher under fingers undulating above the heat.

Hours spent enthralled finally ended, and Lily was thoroughly exhausted.

"Amazing!" James shouted into her ear as they shuffled through the crowd. He smelled of sweat and smoke and Remus' spilt cherry soda, she of sweat and smoke and Sirius' beer; she was convinced that Sirius was less than sincerely apologetic for _that_ spill. Amazing was an understatement, they both knew that much, but she smiled and nodded.

"Amazing."

"I think Sirius cried," James said, lips brushing against her ear so she could hear him through the thousands of voices. "His cheeks were wet."

"Speaking of Sirius," Lily said. "I think you should make sure he doesn't decide to light something on fire for the hell of it. He seems like he'd be the sort to mimic something he sees."

"I think he lost his lighter."

"Maybe that's why he was crying. What a pity."

Suddenly, a tall, broad-shouldered man pushed his way through the swarm of people, knocking Lily off balance and stepping on her foot.

"Ouch!"

"Hey, watch it, twinkle-toes!" James barked at the man's back before turning to Lily. "All right?"

"Yeah, just feels like someone drove over my foot. Other than that, I'm feeling pretty groovy," Lily said dryly.

"Here, let me carry you."

"Are you insane? I'm _fine_, James." Lily managed to give him a laugh. "You'd probably drop me anyway."

"Not true!" he said and lifted his arm to flex. Not much improved from its relatively limp form. "Get a load of this!"

"Of what?"

"Hey! Way to burn a guy!" James cried, letting his arm fall to his side.

The crowd became more dense, compact with people inching their way through the mass. Lily had to grab on to James' shirt sleeve to makes sure they didn't lose each other in the process. "Wait, where are the others?"

He shrugged. "I'll find them. I'm walking you back to Snivellus and company first."

"Severus."

"Who cares? I still can't believe you willingly choose to breathe the same air as him." James shuddered.

"I've got no choice. And besides, the rest are fine. Well, not Evan, but the rest are great. Alice and Betty and—"

"Don't be silly, you've got plenty of choice. This is America, isn't it?" James said. "You should stay with me and the guys! We've got more room and we have a color television. Watching the Smothers Brothers is ten times better in color."

"Thanks for the offer, but living with a house full of boys will drive me up the wall. And look, Severus may be a nasty piece of work but—"

"But nothing," James said, void of the usual spark he displayed when putting down his archenemy of sorts. "You don't know as much as I do about him."

"Both of you say the same things about each other. Who the hell am I supposed to believe?"

"Oh, I don't know. How about the one who actually likes you? The one who you've spent two days with, maybe? The one who you witnessed get a dick painted on his face?" James said, and to reiterate the point he blocked Lily's way, standing firm with his hands on her shoulders. His square framed glasses were incredibly crooked as they rested nearly on the tip of his nose, messy hair clinging in locks to the sweat and dirt on his forehead. James was as arrogant and pestering as Severus said, she'd give him that much. But he had a devil-may-care glint in his eyes when he smiled, as he concocted his next adventure, his next outlandish fantasy. Nothing seemed outlandish in the world of James Potter, she discovered after twenty-four hours of taking in his existence. To Severus she was too optimistic, a dreamer reveling in the sun; too suspicious and asked too many questions. However, compared to James, whatever ounce of vivaciousness or stints of spontaneity she possessed seemed miniscule, a blip on the radar of cheap thrills.

"A _dick_," He repeated, causing Lily to release a snort. "Oh, so it's funny?"

"Yes!" Lily laughed. "It took you three hours to find out!"

James look of seriousness quickly subsided and his mouth quivered into a grin.

"Is everybody from Ohio like you?"

"I hope not."

---

Nearly everyone was already waiting, trying not to get too behind the massive traffic congestion ready to greet them on the highway, by the time she returned to the van. Severus stood smoking by the driver's door, stubbing the cigarette out as Lily approached.

"About time," he said.

"Sorry," she said. "Got held up. Back to San Francisco, eh?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"This weekend went by so fast. It'll be odd going back."

"Not really," Severus said. "It'll be the same thing back there just with fewer cops around."

"Still…" Lily muttered as she looked around the grounds, taking in the atmosphere; the singing wanderers and the topless women, the smell of grass and damp dirt. "It was a good weekend.

He gave her a tired look before bending down to pluck a lone weed sprouting a blossoming bud. He roughly pushed the flower behind Lily's ear. It tickled her forehead. "If you're going to San Francisco, you've got to wear flowers in your hair, or whatever the fuck those lyrics are. Now come on."

They were there in that same little corner of the van for what must have been a couple hours. Alice's face dripped with sweat and paint of every color of the rainbow, white grin clear and genuine as she kissed Frank soundly on the cheek, covering him with trickles of blue and pink. Joan proudly showed off the bracelets she made, Evan of the grass he scored with leftovers of Monterey Purple, and the others told of boys and girls they met. The sing-alongs and stories eventually ended, fading into the occasional sleepy-sounding "remember when's", the occasional filter of laughter, and then, the intermittent snore. In their corner, Lily and Severus were the last to doze off. As her eyes began to slowly droop, her last thought was a frank, solid "fuck it" as her head finally rested on the bony shoulder next to her.

--

_ Rosemary lamb and sweet scents of apple pie wafted through the Evans' household Easter of 1967. Oliver Hanely offered to help the Evans with the festivities, while his family conveniently decided to visit his grandparents for the weekend. The Evans sisters wore their newest dresses, Lily's dark purple and slightly above the knee, Petunia's a powder blue and reaching mid-calf. Petunia was upstairs applying layers upon layers of makeup onto her face and polish on her nails. Her room smelled of powder, varnish, and sickly-sweet vanilla candles, and the sounds of Lesley Gore drifted through the cracked open door. Petunia was meticulous as she sat at her vanity, each makeup product lined in neat rows and columns, perfumes in rainbow order, rollers stacked neatly in a pouch as she gingerly removed them from her blonde hair, and her mirror cleaned that morning to ensure ultimate clarity. Meanwhile, Lily leaned against a kitchen counter, preparing dinner._

_ "It's nice of you to help us with dinner, Oliver," Mrs. Evans said with an exhausted smile as she shut the oven door and rubbed her wet hands over her messy white apron. Flyaway bits of her brown bouffant- styled hair emerged out of its hairspray-stiff confines, and a thin layer of what she insisted be called perspiration shone across her forehead. _

_ "Gee, Mrs. Evans. It's no problem," he said with a strong, sure smile; it accentuated his bone structure, his confident jaw line. "I help Mother out in the kitchen all the time. You just go rest your feet and watch some television with Mr. Evans."_

_ Twenty, handsome, smart, polite, and Scout Helper: Oliver was a model boy of the era, even taking time off from college to help nurse his ailing father back to health. He was perfect. His hair was neatly combed, shirt tucked into his pants, and he was always freshly shaven. _

_ "'Gee'? 'Golly'?" Lily mocked with a raised brow as she peeled a plump, russet potato after her mother stepped out of the kitchen, door swinging behind her. "Are you Oliver Hanley or a Cleaver in disguise?"_

_ "I was just being polite," Oliver insisted as he cut the vegetables into perfect slices._

_ "And Mom ate it up. Congratulations, she's even more in love with you than before. And that's saying something, goody two-shoes."_

_ Oliver nudged her with his elbow and they both chuckled._

_ "If only she knew of your less shining reputation," Lily said, eyebrows raised._

_ "And how do you know about that?" Oliver asked with a roguish smile._

_ "Oh, you know, word goes around fast." Lily shrugged nonchalantly. "Just some stories about one of the Hanley boys and his friends drinking on The Hill, sometimes with girls. It would be blasphemy if it got out. Does Petunia know?"_

_ "What she doesn't know won't hurt her," Oliver said, carelessly._

_ "My lips are sealed."_

_ "You're much more talkative than Petunia," Oliver said after a few moments. His grin was too sly, his eyes a little too bright._

_ "We're very different," Lily said, eyeing an unfortunate looking potato carefully before giving it another quick rinse. Repetitive motions were always a good distraction, heavy wool for the eyes._

_ "I can see that." He reached out his hand to gather a lock of her red hair. "For example, who'd you get this from?"_

_ "My grandmother," Lily breathed, air supply suddenly caught in her throat as he curled the auburn tendrils around his fingers slowly. "I think we're Irish."_

_ "Who isn't?" Oliver replied, uncurling her hair._

_ "Marlene Dietrich," she said quickly._

_ "Who?"_

_ "She's German. You know, the actress. I think she's German," Lily said, unable to concentrate on potatoes. She placed the peeled vegetable into a bowl, set the peeler down, and rested her hands on the counter when Oliver's hand suddenly covered hers; his touch gentle but firm. _

_ She stared at it before moving her hand sharply out of his grasp._

_ "We've got things to chop, Oliver," Lily said, trying desperately to ignore the constant pounding in her chest._

_ "That can wait." His hand caught hers again, thumb rubbing patterns into her palm, tickling the wet skin. He was still smiling._

_ "What are you doing?" _

_ "What does it look like I'm doing?" he replied._

_ "Not chopping vegetables. They aren't going to cook themselves, you know."_

_ His other hand, instead of gripping another carrot, met her waist, slowly moving towards the small of her back._

_ "Oliver!" she gasped, not moving but quickly turning a bright shade of pink. Her right hand gripped the tiled edge of the kitchen counter. Her pulse quickened, beating in the same irregular syncopation as her breaths, as his thumb chafed against her palm._

_ "Cut the bullshit, Lily," he said curtly, moving his mouth toward her ear. His breath felt warm against her skin, causing the sensitive, sheer hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. _

_ "B-But," Lily said, panting. "Petunia—"_

_ "Petunia told me a little secret, the other day," he said. She could _hear_ his smile widening. "Want to know what she said?"_

_ Lily half-heartedly tried to wriggle out of his embrace. She knew what Petunia told him._

_ "She says you like me. That you have some sort of little kid crush on her boyfriend."_

_ "Well, Petunia was lying," she snapped._

_ "You're blushing," he chuckled. _

_ "How would you know?" Lily asked, her neck increasingly stiff as she kept her neck frozen, as any movement might cause skin-to-lip contact. "You can't see my cheeks."_

_ "You should see your neck," he whispered, running a finger along the knot at the back of her neck, causing her to shiver. "It's already pinker than cotton candy."_

_ "Oliver—" she said, alarmed that his name came out in a whimper rather than the stern tone she imagined in her head._

_ "You don't look like a little kid to me, Lily. You've never seemed like a little kid. I reckon Petunia is scared."_

_ "Scared?" she whispered._

_ "Yeah, scared her little sister isn't so little anymore." He stopped caressing her palm, moving down to her hip. "You're gorgeous. A gorgeous _woman_, not a _girl_."_

_ She had no time to think as he pressed her against the counter, head lowering so his lips could travel down her neck before lightly sucking the sensitive flesh between his lips. He made his way back up and kissed her cheek next, his grin lingering along her skin._

_ "Oliver," she whispered, suddenly finding her hands and pushing him away gently. Too gently. "No."_

_ He watched her reddened cheeks slowly lose their color and her chest heave. "She won't know, Lily. Don't look so damn worried. Lips sealed, remember? Look, I'll peel the potatoes. My hands are faster than yours."_

_ There was a constant mixture of sickness and pleasure every time she saw him: every time he came to pick up Petunia, every time he caught her alone; every time he kissed and flattered her in hushed tones as she let his hands wander. _

_ The thrill made her ill. The thrill gave her a craving she knew would destroy her in the end._

_ It was only a matter of time. _

--

Lily's fingertips lightly pressed against the spot where her collarbones met, just under her neck. There were some things no soap could remove; sensation, emotion. Scrubbing skin raw and scalding hot water only gets rid of the problems and lesions that have already reached the surface. Insides are impossible to scrub clean. The cold tile of the shower brought needed relief to her burning shoulder blades. She panted heavily in the steam and a queasy feeling rumbled in her stomach. Closing her eyes, Lily shook her head, wet hair sticking to her face, trying to push the memory out of her mind.

_This is the last time you think about it…starting in five…four…three…two…one…_

She opened her eyes, desperate to feel a sense of emptiness or closure. And it worked…for a few seconds at least. This attempt at peace of mind was no longer unfamiliar. A nagging inkling of guilt tugged at her for having the nerve to be so thoughtless with total strangers here in this strange city and an even stranger concert. To kiss and smoke and experiment with anyone. Lily knew Petunia was right about her after all.

She was reckless.

"You've learned jack shit," she said to herself.

A loud bang on the door caused Lily to give a little shout and nearly slip on the sudsy shower floor.

"You're killing fish, you know that?" yelled Severus' voice. "It's people like you who cause droughts!"

She turned off the water with a scowl and wrapped herself in a towel before treading down the hall towards the room she and Severus shared.

"More grass?" Lily asked as she entered, clutching the towel to her body with one hand and running her hand through her stringy hair with the other. The smell by now was familiar, but never what she'd call pleasant.

"It's Evan's," he said, taking another drag. He looked exhausted.

"Hm."

She walked to her side of the room and turned on the lights as she dressed behind the thick beads, changing into a rather unremarkable cotton knee-length nightgown. The room was stuffy, so with arms crossed over her chest she walked to Severus' side to open the window.

After relishing the cool breeze, she looked over her shoulder to see Severus staring oddly at her.

"What is it with you?"

"What?"

"You keep looking at me like I've got four arms. Is there something up my nose? Is my hair green?" Lily demanded, exasperated. "What, pray tell, is it _this_ time?"

"Don't you think it's past your bedtime?"

"Fuck off," Lily said, leaning against the window, and watched the dead, dark street outside.

After several drags and several sighs, Severus asked, "Why are you here, Evans?"

Lily's scalp was getting cold as the breeze hit her damp hair; as she spotted someone walking their dog in the street below, she decided to be vague with him.

"I need to clear my head. Just for a little while."

"So you ran away."

She turned sharply towards him. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't _have_ to say anything," Severus said smugly. "I'm not stupid. It's obvious now: you ran away. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yes!" Lily retorted with a shriek. "I ran away. I hopped on a fucking bus and ran away. Happy now?"

"No," he said calmly after a long drag. "You still haven't explained _why_ you ran away. You can clear your head anywhere."

"Curiosity killed the cat, remember?" _Practice what you preach,_ she thought.

"You're still hiding something."

"For fuck's sake!" She pushed herself off the wall. "Look, Dragnet, I'm not talking about this right now. It's three A.M. I'm going to bed."

"Whatever."

"Yeah, whatever."

--

Severus prided himself in being a silent observer, pontifications best concocted in nicotine or herb-induced hazes, and with other toxins too if he could get his hands on them. Lily Evans remained a complete mystery to him; she was already popular amongst everyone in the house, and she downplayed everything from her looks to her magnetic persona. Her naiveté was balanced with pluck and cleverness. The girl could name any mod fashion model and own obscure blues albums but could hardly roll a joint: she was just a mystery.

Over the past few days Severus discovered little things about her: she was fond of bare legs and bare feet and he often caught himself engrossed by feminine skin covered in sparse freckles, distracted by the red rush of blood under the creamy color of her left thigh after she crossed her legs. He almost hated himself for this new, passive extra-curricular activity, but not enough to stop. She was attractive, without question. He figured he wouldn't have kissed her if she was some kind of skag.

_Kissed _her. It seemed like ages ago to him. The kiss was empty, fueled by chemicals and confusion rather than warmth and attraction. _Luckily_, he told himself.

Her face often expressed amusement with the curl of her red lips, or concern with a frown, penetrating green stares and nods. But as of late, scowls and downcast eyes were more frequent in his presence. They didn't fit her well. He knew he was partly to blame, and he knew he should have cared more. Anyone _decent _would have. But he wasn't decent and he knew as much; Lily didn't have to prove that obvious fact to him.

He'd keep Lily at a distance, scoff at her brief moments of stupidity, ignore her cleverness, and move on; he'd watch the angry look in her eyes and revel in them. To bask in her anger instead of her joy was safer. Her joy made him feel a foreign surge of misguided warmth towards her. These reactions were too volatile; self-destruction in the making. It made his stomach feel queer and his eyes twitch and his cheeks flush a terrible, spotty mauve.

It was like he was fourteen again. Fourteen was shit.

As he watched her retreat angrily back to her side of the room he came to a conclusion: she'd become corrupted enough sooner or later, no need to accelerate a certain fate. It was only a matter of time before she'd learn to maintain vices or fall victim to them, and he wouldn't stop her nor interfere. That was life in the Haight and he was all too familiar to the latter path.


	4. May 7, 1965 Prequel

**Title:** Where the Flowers Bloom: Part 4 - Prequel  
**Pairing:** Severus POV, Severus/OC _[Lily/James and Lily/Snape; Lily-centric]_  
**Rating:** R  
**Word Count:** ~8,900  
**Summary:** A seemingly average spring day in 1965 starts with a cigarette and ends with a new beginning. Whether it's for the better or for the worse is anyone's guess.  
_[The psychedelic summer of 1967 was more than just free love, protests, and Sgt. Pepper. It was more than just R-E-S-P-E-C-T, draft card burning, and "turned on" consciousness in the streets of San Francisco. For Lily Evans, that madcap summer was an escape.]_  
**Warnings:** AU, language, sexuality  
**A/N:** **This chapter deserves some explanation.** The idea for this chapter was originally a funny idea I thought about in my free time and ended up providing a wealth of background stories and information (not to mention taking up the entire summer to complete). Although neither Lily nor James make any physical appearances in this chapter, they will, of course, appear in the ones remaining. I'm confident that this is a solid chapter and significant to the entire story as a whole. AND THANK YOU Lavinialavender LJ FOR THE MULTIPLE EDITS. You are the essence of fabulosity.

**AND REMEMBER, TO SEE A MUCH BETTER VERSION OF THIS CHAPTER/FIC COMPLETE WITH IMAGES, GO TO COMMUNITY**dot**LIVEJOURNAL**dot**COM**slash**ACCIOSALMON!**

---

**SMOKING WITH SUBTERRANEAN HOMESICK BLUES**

**---**

A smoke upon waking was as typical and inconsequential to Severus as morning wood to any other man. He squeezed his eyes shut and winced at the jarring sound of his alarm clock before slamming it off with an impatient hand, then reached with keen accuracy for one only half awake for his mangy carton of Marlboros and lighter on the side table. Igniting a cigarette, his eyes flitted around his sparsely decorated room of dark green walls covered with a few posters: a map of the world, a crooked Rolling Stones poster with a massive tear in it, and several magazine and newspaper cut-outs of recent events he found of particular interest. A dark wooden desk stood in the corner nearby his closet, and his unremarkable bed rested against the opposite wall, adjacent to the windows.

After several minutes of drags and sleepy exhales, he stubbed out his cigarette with a groan and rose to his feet. He grabbed a pair of dark jeans from out of his dresser before heading into the bathroom. Glancing at the mirror as he brushed his teeth, he regarded the bags under his eyes, pale skin taut against his cheekbones, and thin lips smeared with spearmint toothpaste. He spit into the basin and threw water on his face, unfazed by the drops falling off his chin and onto his chest. Whenever the opportunity arose, his father Tobias said he had the chest of a seven-year-old girl. Although Severus wasn't one to give too much thought to his appearance, he not only liked to think that he didn't resemble a seven-year-old girl but sincerely hoped that seven-year-old girls didn't have bits of hair on their chests.

Severus left the bathroom and lit another cigarette, closing his eyes briefly to savor the rush of nicotine through his blood. The smoke blew from his nostrils in two even lines of white-gray as they flirted with the millions of dust particles highlighted by the bright California sunlight streaming through the thin cracks of his blinds.

He read an article once that said addiction ran in the family. He imagined he was fucked at conception, really.

With another cigarette down, Severus put on a white shirt, threw his book bag over his shoulder, and walked out of the bedroom. The local news blared and bounced off the hallway walls of fading, non-descript patterns resembling geometry and flora in hues of faded yellow, beige, and brown. He grabbed from the kitchen the bagged lunch he had hastily thrown together the night before and was almost out of the house, steps away from the front door, when he was interrupted by someone shifting on the couch.

"Severus. _Severus_."

He had hoped to avoid her this morning.

His mother, Eileen, called to him from the worn couch, taking her time to push herself off the seat and lean against a nearby wall. A fuzzy, pale pink robe wrapped around her willowy body and her dark brown hair was a mess of uncombed curls reaching her chin. She made a face and rubbed the back of her head before regarding him with heavily lidded, steel-blue eyes. "You leavin'?"

Severus shook his keys in response.

Eileen pursed her lips and exhaled heavily through her nose. "Severus, don't be a smartass and get some milk from the store, will you? We ran out two days ago."

Before Severus could respond, his father came stomping into the living room through the kitchen with his work bag. His relatively lean frame was interrupted by a growing gut, his nose identical to his son's, and his short, black hair combed and slicked with stiff gel. He gave Eileen a quick once-over of mingled pity and disgust—primarily the latter—and spoke with condescension as he scratched the back of his neck with exaggerated exasperation. "It's a goddamn school day, Eileen. The boy has _school_."

Eileen stared wide-eyed at Tobias, suddenly embarrassed as she folded her arms across her chest, nervously caressing her elbows through the robe. "I could have sworn…could have _sworn_ it was Sunday."

"It's Friday," Severus quietly supplemented.

Tobias chuckled disdainfully, waving a thick hand in his wife's direction. "Look at you. Don't even know what day it is. Do you know the year? The President?"

She gathered her robe around her and lifted her head with an air of someone preserving the remaining shreds of their dignity. "'65. Johnson." With a look of contempt which rivaled Tobias', she shook her head. "No good smart asses, the both of you."

Tobias ignored her reprimands and instead looked her up and down, taking her in with a grimace. "Hell, Eileen. Why don't you wear something decent? You don't do jack shit all day, the least you can do is put on some goddamn makeup like a _normal_ housewife. Look halfway presentable to the neighbors."

With one last stinging glare at her husband, Eileen exited the living room before Tobias finished his sentence. Devoid of a wife to harass, Tobias swiftly gripped Severus' shoulder and roughly directed his attention to the front door. "What are you still doing hanging around the house? You're going to be late."

Severus shrugged off his father's rough, calloused hold and opened the front door, certain he heard the quiet rattling of pills inside a small bottle from somewhere inside.

---

"Psst!"

Severus turned his head slightly to catch a glance of Avery Spaulding leaning forward on his desk, elbows on the tabletop and ass barely grazing his seat. He always smelled like cologne; loud, overpriced cologne his mother likely got from an expensive department store. Third period that Friday was no different. His blonde hair reached just past his ears and was always shiny and over-groomed ("Like a fucking chick," Severus' friend Al Harding would say), and his gray eyes were too bright, as if the bastard were anticipating something exciting.

"_Psst!_"

"_What?_" Severus whispered back, keeping one cautious eye on the easily aggravated Mrs. Merchant as she graded their English papers. The class was supposed to spend the rest of the period reading their copies of _The Red Badge of Courage_; many instead were quietly passing notes, playing MASH on ripped pieces of lined paper, and Bobby McGregor had his copy of Crane's novel flat on the table while in actuality he was reading the newest issue of _The Amazing Spider-Man _on his lap with artful ease.

"Listen," Avery started. "The guys are going to the Diner tonight. You coming or not?"

"I don't know," Severus said, turning a page.

"Don't be a panty waist. You want to be home on a Friday night? Huh? Do you?" Avery goaded, moving further off the chair, as if to force Severus to hear him better. "And do what? Watch _The Farmer's Daughter_ with your _mother_?"

"Fuck off."

"Look, I'm just saying—"

"You're _always_ just saying, jackass."

"Are you in or not?" Avery asked, suddenly impatient. "I'm taking Penny."

"How surprising," Severus snorted. "You're bringing your easy girlfriend along."

"I like them easy," Avery said with a quiet chuckle.

"Severus! Avery!"

Avery plopped back into his seat and Severus turned around to see Mrs. Merchant's lips held tightly together with her index finger placed over them, likely getting her gaudy red lipstick all over them. Severus' lip curled involuntarily. He hated the woman and thought she was an incompetent teacher who lacked thought-provoking analysis on anything beyond Shakespeare. She was constantly at a loss for words earlier in the year when two weeks were was dedicated to analyzing Joseph Conrad's _Heart of Darkness_, accompanied by Severus' even-toned criticisms of the novel as—albeit full of noteworthy symbolism—essentially "imperialistic, dehumanizing garbage." Severus noted her relief and easing of tension when they finished Conrad and moved on to reading _Macbeth_, a personal favorite of hers.

"Sorry, Mrs. Merchant," Severus and Avery said in unison. Mrs. Merchant returned to grading the mountain of papers stacked on her desk.

"Lemme guess," Avery breathed a few minutes later. "You're just too much of a loser to get a date for tonight."

"_Shut up_," Severus hissed, holding the mauve hardcover book a little tighter than necessary. The last thing he wanted was to receive a detention from his least favorite teacher on a Friday afternoon.

"You're not helping your case, you know that, right?"

"I'm trying to read."

"No you're not."

Avery was half-right; at that point the book was mostly a prop in his half-assed plan to ignore Avery, but Severus began to read regardless.

_The simple questions of the tattered man had been knife thrusts to him. They asserted a society that—_

"When's the last time you went out with someone? Sophomore year with that chick that had the braces?"

_They asserted a society that probes pitilessly at—_

"What was her name? Beth?"

_They asserted a society that probes pitilessly at secrets until all is apparent. His late companion's—  
_

"Come on, just ask someone."

"I'm reading the same goddamn sentence over and over again," Severus snapped, giving up and closing the book shut. He chanced another cautious glance towards Mrs. Merchant, who was now reading a typewritten essay to herself, lips moving rapidly. "Why are _you_ so interested?"

Avery gawked with embellished contempt. "Am I your friend or what?"

Later, Severus sat at his usual lunch table with Avery, Al, Jerry Pierce, and Ralphie Steinberg, the last of whom arrived at the table with a flourish and cafeteria food piled high on a bright orange tray. Al, Severus' closest friend of the lot, sat across from him with a hickey presented proudly on the side of his neck. Severus was convinced Al's sudden desire to roll his neck to relieve himself of an apparent cramp as well as the sudden itch at his collarbone were all a not-so-clever ruse to attract commentary.

"That wasn't there second period," Ralphie said around a forkful of mashed potatoes as he finally got himself settled.

"What wasn't there?" Al replied nonchalantly as he ran his hands through his reddish-brown hair, but Severus noticed a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Despite being his best friend, Al was as dissimilar from Severus as could be: he craved being the center attention, gained modest respect, even adoration from a large percentage of the student body, and cared more about tuning up his car and playing baseball or basketball than Severus' hobbies of tracking current events, reading, and photography. Despite such contrariety, Al often understood Severus better than Severus cared to admit and provided loyal companionship regardless of differing social standing.

"I believe Ralphie is referring to that massive hickey on your neck, Casanova," Severus said.

"Casawho?" Ralphie asked with a perplexed look across his round, freckled face. Severus ignored him; it wasn't worth explaining.

"Forget about it, we've got more important things to talk about," Al said. He leaned forward in his seat, brown eyes narrowing and expression exuding serious intent, as if getting down to the crux of a dilemma. "Which of these skirts'll go out with Sev tonight? What about Sally?"

Avery snorted. "Which one?"

"Parker. The one Jerry thinks doesn't wear panties," Al said with a leer.

"It's just a hunch," Jerry defended, pushing his thick glasses further up the bridge of his nose and searching around the cafeteria with a crooked smile for the girl in question, as if to somehow prove his theory.

"She has a lisp for Christ's sake," Severus said with a frown, boring bologna and mayonnaise sandwich in hand before taking a meager bite. He hated bologna. At least cafeteria meatloaf, though tough and undulating in ketchup base and odd-smelling gravy, was clearly made from either a cow or a pig. No one ever had a straight answer when you asked them where the hell bologna came from. No one.

"And you have the biggest nose I've ever seen and I still talk to you. Somehow," Al replied lazily, opening his own brown bag lunch and pulling out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the crust cut off. "You can't be picky _now_. You've only got a few more hours left to ask someone, unless you want to be a ninth wheel."

"I don't care," Severus said. He didn't have to take his eyes off his sandwich to know that Al was giving him a look that said _you're a lying son of a bitch_.

"Foxy Francine," Jerry countered, eyebrows wiggling as he opened his small carton of milk.

"You're joking," Severus said dryly, failing to find a trace of amusement in Jerry's suggestion of asking one of the most popular girls in school out on a date to a diner.

"Like she'd go out with Sev," Avery drawled. "She wouldn't even go out with _me_ last semester, four eyes. Remember?"

"Well what about Lucy?" Ralphie offered. "Lucy Little?"

"_God_, Ralphie. She's dumber than a pile of rocks," Severus said, sounding pained.

"So? She's staked," Al said around his sandwich with a shrug.

"Don't you already have a steady?" Jerry asked as he straightened out his brown mop top.

"Well, we all know where Al's standards lie," Avery answered with a smirk.

"Look who's talking, hot shot," Al retorted with a light, derisive chuckle. "Your girlfriend is the easiest thing this side of the fucking Atlantic and has made it with nearly every senior here in every passion pit within twenty miles."

"Watch it, Al."

"I'm telling the truth. LA's personal whore. I bet she'd spread her legs for the Pope."

The boys laughed while Avery flipped Al off. Recovering from his put-out state, he eyed the others with a winning sneer. "At least I'm getting laid. _I'm _the one actually getting some, unlike you losers."

"Oh, you're getting _something _all right," Al said. "I'm pretty sure it's called VD."

Avery threw a spoon at Al as the boys laughed again. The conversation deteriorated into hearsay about women, each account told full of half lies and exaggerated truths as far as Severus was concerned; he doubted Al's girlfriend, Joni Travers, gave him head in the back of his car while it was parked in the school parking lot last Thursday and flat-out refused to believe Jerry made it with a girl from France over spring break.

"And for the record," Avery added conspiratorially as he stood up to throw away his half-eaten Granny Smith apple, "I hear Lucy stuffs her bra."

Just before lunch ended, the boys went their separate ways. Severus realized he was bothered – either by the fact that it was nearly impossible for him to get a date by three o'clock, the fact that he even _cared_ about getting a date by three o'clock, or the fact that he needed a cigarette. He blamed the last option, and as he fiddled around with the lighter in his pocket and half a mind to sneak a smoke in the boys' bathroom before sixth period, he spotted a group of girls sitting on a bench along the brick wall of the theatre building. He was almost positive he loathed just about all of them: Karen Maletski's vanity, Linda Row's stupidity, Sarah Gross' constant self-delusion of her imagined popularity status, Amanda Taylor's obsessive competitiveness. And then there was Marcia Crawford; under the radar, boring when compared to the girls given nicknames like Foxy Francine or Staked Lucy, never quite standing out with her unremarkable shoulder-length blonde hair and grey-blue eyes. She dressed like all the other girls, wore her hair like the other girls, puckered with the same lipstick as the other girls: she blended in almost too well into the female makeup of their high school. Unlike all the other girls, however, she was one of the best students in the class.

"Crawford."

"Yes? Oh, hello, Snape," she said, unsmiling but kind—albeit curious—as she looked up at him from behind her _16 Magazine_, covered with pictures of British invasion musicians at which she and her girlfriends ogled. Severus didn't know why he suddenly felt intimidated by her or conscious of how odd he must have looked, walking across the grounds to speak to her.

"Hello. Er, the guys—"

"The guys?" Marcia interrupted, cocking her head to the side and squinting before a look of recognition crossed her features. "Oh, you're in Al's group, right? Al Harding?"

Al's group. With all his might, he refrained from rolling his eyes. Al's group; that killed him. "Yeah, Al…"

"He's pretty cool," Marcia said with a small smile. "I had Spanish with him second period."

"I'm sorry." Al bastardized the Spanish language like no other.

"Harding's got a bitchin' car," Sarah added at Marcia's left, crossing her legs and closing her metal Beatles lunchbox. The others nodded in excited consensus; Al seemed to have passed the girl test with flying colors.

"Yeah, we're…all inviting someone to the Diner and—"

"Yeah, I'll go."

"Really?" Severus said, immediately regretting sounding so desperate and surprised that she agreed.

"Certainly," Marcia said. "Besides, you saved me before the last chemistry exam. I owe you one."

Severus had almost forgotten the incident a couple weeks prior when he sat behind a frantic Marcia Crawford, who couldn't for the life of her find an extra pencil in her book bag. As their chemistry teacher began to pass out the tests to the first row, Marcia spun around in her seat and urgently asked if he had an extra pencil. Severus figured he would have said no if someone less agreeable asked him; and she had actually returned it. Something was clearly wrong if he could trust his writing instruments in the hands of a girl he hardly knew over the sweaty palms of Jerry, who likely owed him over forty pens and pencils since ninth grade.

"It was nothing. Um, seven?"

"Sure." She reached for her blue leather handbag and pulled out a small notepad and pen and quickly wrote her address down. She handed him the torn-out piece of lined paper and he folded it. "Sixteen thirty-two Cadwallader Road."

After pocketing the address, he departed with a muttered goodbye from Marcia and her clique, who immediately fell into a gaggle of whispers and giggles.

He needed a cigarette.

---

In Severus' not so humble opinion, shaving was a pain in the ass. He wouldn't pick up a single razor ever again if he didn't look so ridiculous with ample amounts of facial hair. He was careful, with hands as fixed as a surgeon's, and methodical…the slightest distraction could prove—

"Since when did you have a five o'clock shadow to handle?"

Startled by the sudden sound of his mother's amused cadence, Severus pressed the blades deeper into the skin of his chin. "Shit!"

"Watch your language," Eileen half-heartedly chided, lighting up a cigarette.

He ignored her and cursed several more times as he watched his chin ooze with blood before pressing the spot with toilet paper. When he felt as though he had the blood under control, he perused his father's cologne selection, hoping to deduce the shitty from the decent under the pale yellow bathroom light.

"Nope," Eileen said quietly over Severus' shoulder as his hand hovered over a promising dark blue bottle. He looked up at her reflection through the mirror. She gave him a small smile. With a sigh he grabbed for the deep maroon bottle with a gold cap next to it. Eileen cringed. "Not unless you want to smell like your grandfather. I always hated that one. Could swear that same bottle runs in the family."

"Walks down memory lane are hardly necessary," Severus said. He grabbed a sap-green bottle the size and shape of a bar of soap.

"There you go, that one," Eileen whispered. "That one should be swell." Reluctantly taking his mother's advice, he sprayed the cologne inexpertly along his neck. He hardly felt anything manly about applying cologne; he felt rather feminine.

"So, who's the lucky lady?" Eileen asked, grinning at him around her cigarette like she was a teenager, ready to dig into a juicy piece of gossip.

"No one."

"I'm guessing you're not wearing cologne for Al."

"_Of course not_."

"Well I think I have the right to know—"

"A right to know my ass," Severus snapped, voice ringing around the small bathroom. He slammed the cologne on the counter and turned around to face her. "You hardly _know_ what day it is, let alone _care_ about what the hell I'm getting up to on a Friday night. Cut out the attentive mother charade. You're embarrassing yourself."

"_Severus_—"

"Don't you have some little yellow pills to pop instead of talking to me about dates?" He regretted the words the second they rolled so fluidly off his tongue, and even more when he took in the look of shock on his mother's face; her hand lay over her heart, eyes wide as she leaned against the wall. "Look, I'm—" He couldn't bring himself to apologize, and instead turned back to the mirror and busied himself with a comb, feigning the sudden importance of his hair not resembling _complete _shit.

Eileen adjusted slightly. With a cursory glimpse at his mother through the glass, Severus noticed her disposition soften. "You should wear those brown slacks you wore on Easter," she suggested softly after a long pause and a drag. "But _please _try to match this time. And try to find a tie, will you?"

"Yeah," Severus said. "Brown slacks, tie. Right."

Eileen stared at her reflection in the mirror, mouth slightly parted as she gently threaded her fingers through her thinning dark brown waves of hair. "Notice anything different about me?" she asked in a tone barely above a whisper, voice fading like the wisps of smoke leaving her lips.

Severus looked up at his mother through the mirror again and wondered what the hell she was talking about. She looked the same, the same shadow of the woman she was in her prime, the woman in all the photos in gold frames and old photo albums: pin-curled hair, polished porcelain face, a variety of costumes and jewelry depending on the performance or movie. Eileen of the black-and-white photographs from the forties didn't resemble the Eileen of the sixties in the slightest. Her life was reduced to pills, cigarettes, and shitty daytime television. Old laugh lines left thin trails along the outer corners of her lifeless eyes and her oily skin sagged the way the skin of any woman in her mid-forties would. Other than the fact that she was now wearing an old, threadbare nightgown she often wore around the house in the evening, he saw no difference in her appearance.

"No," Severus confessed.

Eileen's eyebrows rose. "Lipstick," she said with a shaky smile. "I'm wearing lipstick."

With a start Severus now noticed the deep, wine-red rouge on his mother's lips and how much it contrasted with the wane, washed-out look of her cheeks. "Oh."

"It's all right," Eileen said and walked to his side, slightly shorter than him, lightly threading her hand through his hair. She stared at the mirror, eyes unfocused, hand resting at the nape of his neck in a rare moment of maternal warmth before taking another shallow drag. "He didn't notice either."

---

---

Severus was good at maps. He had been good at maps, that is, until a Friday night in the spring of 1965 at the worst possible time. He stared at the _Thomas Guide_ until his eyes crossed while he searched for Cadwallader Road, aided only by the towering, flickering lamp on his street. He cursed himself for not asking in which part of the city she resided - a truly stupid error in a city as big as Los Angeles. And finally, as he was running behind his original schedule for the night, he found her tiny street. In a moment of dread accompanied by some woman crooning on the radio, he realized Marcia lived off Doheny Drive and that very fact meant one thing: she was probably well off, most likely _incredibly _well off. His theory proved accurate as his sputtering Bug rumbled its way up the hill and ended up outside an impressive two-story home with a brand new Porsche sparkling in the driveway as if it had just been waxed. Severus apprehensively rang the doorbell, wishing to God it were the right house, and Marcia opened the door to an even more impressive interior before yelling goodbye to her father with a resounding echo in the foyer.

"Thanks for all of this. I needed to get away from Daddy for a night," Marcia said contently, now seated in the passenger seat of his car, flattening out her white, knee-length, flower-patterned dress and adjusting her small black sweater. Everything was suddenly incredibly surreal; a girl preening in his car wearing pink kitten heels and floral perfume.

"You never told me you were loaded," Severus said coldly as he switched gears to drive.

"I didn't think it was important," Marcia said, combing her fingers through her hair with a frown. "Is there a problem?"

Severus shrugged. "Well, when you pull up in a beat-up Bug to a house with a new Porsche in the driveway…"

"Who cares about a silly thing like that?" Marcia sighed, pausing mid hair-fluff to give him an even look. "I never expected you to be the type to feel embarrassed about _cars_." He said nothing. Marcia continued. "You just seemed…smarter than that. I don't know, not like those car-obsessed _bozos_ who think all their self-worth is in a hunk of metal. You know, half the boys at our school."

"Sorry," Severus mumbled.

"It's okay," Marcia said. "Mind if I turn up the radio?" Severus shook his head and she leaned down to turn up the radio, which was already set at the popular music station. Marcia suddenly perked up and cranked the radio volume up. "Oh, I love this song. Do you like The Supremes? I think they're really groovy. Daddy met them once with my sister. He even got me an autograph. He's an agent, you know."

With a house like that off Doheny Drive, Severus was far from surprised to hear that. He pulled out his lighter. "Mind if I smoke?"

---

The Diner was the boys' usual haunt on Friday or Saturday nights, and the same could be said for many other local high school and college students. That Friday was no different: the food was greasy, the music was loud, girls ambled around in skirts and dresses with hems reaching mid thigh and tight pants while guys rubbernecked, hoping one of them dropped a nickel on their way to the jukebox. This night was only different in one way: the boys each had a girl to their left or right.

By the way Al and Joni were giggling and blushing, Severus suspected she must have her hand on Al's goddamn crotch under the table, and Avery was on his way to one-upping him with his girlfriend, Penny Wilder. Meanwhile, Jerry looked on at the two couples with badly hidden envy as his date, Julia Santoro, chatted with Ralphie's date, Janet Horowitz.

"Wow, you sure look pretty dolled up, Crawford," Penny said appraisingly, loudly smacking her watermelon gum, donned in a pair of jeans and a peach blouse with bangs that nearly shrouded her eyes. "Thought Snape was going to take you to a steakhouse?"

"Oh, this old thing? It's nothing. I think I want a root beer," Marcia said slowly as she browsed the menu at Severus' right.

"The root beer here is shit. Go with something else," Severus suggested, tearing up a paper napkin while a cigarette bobbed in his mouth, reminding himself to flip off Penny when he got the chance.

The waitress came by a moment later to take their orders. After she jumped to another table, Severus noticed Ralphie morosely gazing around the room. He looked limp, as though somebody had wrung him out and thrown him in the booth. "What's wrong with you?"

Ralphie shook his head, snapping out of his sorry daze. "Huh? What'd you say?"

"You look like hell," Severus said frankly before taking another drag. "Like your cat died or something."

"Yeah, what's eating you, Ralph?" Janet asked, suddenly attentive with her elbow resting on the table and her chin perched on the heel of her hand, speaking to him as if she'd known all along how foul his mood had been and not chatting her head off for the past ten minutes.

Ralphie frowned and scratched the back of his neck with one hand while fiddling with an old, dull nickel with the other. "I guess it's really happening, the whole graduating thing. You know."

"Thank God," Severus said. Jerry supplied an enthusiastic "Here here!"

"Well maybe _you're _looking forward to it but…everybody is going to be off doing their own crap and who the hell knows what we'll be up to in a few years," Ralphie continued intently. "I don't know what the hell I want to do with my life. I mean, damn it, what else is there to look forward to?"

"Don't tell me you believe all that 'these are the best days of your life' shit, Ralphie," Severus said.

"No, no, it's just…All I have to look forward to is my mom dragging me to Israel in July, birth right and all. After that, what? College? Big deal. Mom's really been pushing me to go off to law school like Dad but…"

"But we're not our parents," Severus finished. Ralphie nodded, running his hand through his mop of curly brown hair in aggravation. "Their generation gets off to the fact that they fought fascism – don't be surprised that you can't quite meet their expectations." Al chuckled but the smile quickly slid off his face, and he looked down at the table solemnly; his amusement seemed inappropriate contrasted against Ralphie's woes, as did the cheery pop tunes around them.

"Aw, don't be nervous, Ralphie. I think we all are, a little bit," Julia said, breaking the silence with a sympathetic smile. Avery let out a disbelieving scoff. "Even if _some people_ are too full of themselves to admit it."

"_I'm_ not nervous," Evan said, curling an arm around Penny's shoulders and exhaling with satisfaction. "It's pretty simple to me. Going to college, get married, become some sort of big business man with a Royce, have a couple kids, retire, get my social security, and wait to die."

"Gee, thanks, Avery," Ralphie muttered just as their waitress returned with their food.

"What about you, Severus?" Marcia asked before taking a sip of her Coke. "What are your plans after graduation?"

Severus took a long drag from his cigarette and stared at his fork. "I don't know."

"Aw, come on Sev," Al said with a smirk as Joni playfully attempted to feed him. "Tell her where you got in, huh? Don't be modest."

Severus gave Al a look of utmost loathing, truly hating him in that moment. Al knew this was the last thing he wanted to discuss, but with a quick glance at Marcia's face, brimming with interest, he gave in with a sigh. "Princeton."

"You got into _Princeton_?" Marcia gasped, blue eyes wide and lips curved in a smile. The rest of the girls began to chime in with congratulations. "That's fantastic!"

"Cool your jets. He's not going," Al said, both tone teasing and incredulous. Al had tried more than anyone else to convince him to go to Princeton. Despite all the finality Severus could possibly conjure in his tone, Al had been determined for weeks to change his mind.

"Well, why not?" Marcia asked, the most lively she'd been all night, and about _colleges_. "It's a great school. It's one of the top universities in the _country_!"

"I'll answer that for you, Crawford. Because Sev here," Al said, pointing a spoon in Severus' direction with a mouthful of chocolate shake pooling on his tongue, "is a fucking idiot."

"Look," Severus said firmly, flicking the ashes from his cigarette. "I only applied on a whim because that damn guidance counselor suggested it and then everyone else jumped on the idea. I don't want to go and turn into some mindless, Frisbee-throwing idiot."

Everyone at the table was quiet, sans the incessant crunching of the onion rings in Jerry's mouth. Al shrugged. "Like I said: a fucking idiot."

"Daddy went to an Ivy, you know. Brown is his alma matter," Marcia said. "He raves about it."

"You don't say," Severus said, deadpan into his Coke.

"But I'm going to Smith in the fall. I can't wait," Marcia said.

"Hey, isn't that an all-girls college?" Joni asked as she grabbed a french fry off of Al's plate.

"Yeah, in Massachusetts," Marcia said. Penny snorted, as if wondering how the hell anyone would subject herself to such single-sex tortures.

"Where are you off to, Al?" Janet asked as twirled her straw around in her glass of water with lemon, having claimed earlier she was strictly on the Cabbage Diet.

"You ladies are looking at a future Marine." The shit-eating grin on Al's face made Severus want to throw up. His mood suddenly darkened and he realized that at the back of his mind he had hoped this wouldn't be discussed tonight. Or worse, _praised. _But such fancies were quickly extinguished as Joni simpered and cuddled up closer to him.

"I love a man in uniform," Joni cooed, rubbing Al's arm and gazing up at him with heavy, lovesick eyes before giving him a peck on the lips, which quickly turned into a smoldering kiss.

When the lip-lock with his girlfriend ended, Al eyed Severus for a moment before elevating his chin and smirking. "I'm sure Sev here is proud."

"As proud as the mother of a serial killer, Al."

"Hey, you stick to your little protests and I'll stick with family tradition."

"Fuck your stupid tradition," Severus countered. He felt Marcia shift uncomfortably next to him. "Hey, here's a novel idea. It'll really blow your socks off, really: try out that tradition bullshit when we aren't _in the middle of a war_."

"And besides," Al raised his voice, talking over him. "Not all of us are exactly the type to get into a goddamn Ivy League school."

"Just don't say I didn't warn you when you get your face blown off for no goddamn reason," Severus said. He turned to Marcia, deflating slightly. "Excuse me."

He stood up from his seat at the outer edge of the booth and dodged a few mingling teenagers lurking around other tables before reaching the bathroom. In what seemed like seconds later, the door slammed open. Severus didn't have to look up from the urinal to recognize the sound of Al's aggravated stride.

"If you don't mind, Al, I'm trying to take a piss over here."

"What the _fuck_ is your problem?"

"_My _problem?"

"Yeah, _your_ problem."

Severus rolled his eyes as he zipped his pants and approached the sink to wash his hands. "I think _you're_ the one with the problem," he said icily over the running water. "You're obviously screwed in the head if you want to get shipped off to Nam."

"You embarrassed me," Al said, hands moving wildly towards the door. "And in front of Joni."

Severus scoffed. "Don't blame _me_ for killing your hard-on. I'm sure she'll forget about it."

"You think you're so great, don't you?" Al growled, hitting the towel dispenser. "Think you're _so_ _damn _smart. Mister high and mighty because instead of playing ball or…or going dancing you go downtown and carry picket signs or stay home and jack off to Walter fucking Cronkite. So goddamn _noble_ for turning down an Ivy League school and then have the _balls_ to lecture _me_ about shitty decisions? But it must not make you too happy, you know, all this self-righteous bullshit over the years. You're just as pathetic now as you were the first time I saw you." Severus dried off his hands, trying not to listen to a word Al was spewing, but he was on a roll. "Oh, the old silent treatment, huh? You look pretty angry, _Sev_."

Al moved to block Severus' way to the door. "Get out of the way, Al." Severus tried to press past him, but Al jostled in front of him. He was quickly seeing red; his hands began to clench tightly on their own accord. "Move or I'll make you move."

Leaning his somewhat taller frame towards Severus with another hard shove, Al gave him a taunting grimace. "I'd like to see you try."

Without second thoughts or regrets or worrying about a single consequence, Severus swung his right hand back and socked Al right in the mouth. Al staggered back, his head hitting the bathroom door with a bang before he touched his lip gingerly, looking at Severus with shock. Severus barely had time to take in his handiwork or feel any satisfaction at Al's split lip oozing with blood before Al punched him back, striking him in the nose. Severus knew he was bleeding profusely, feeling warm blood stream out of his nostrils, but he felt numb with newfound rage as he aimed another fist towards Al's eye. Al blocked him before wrestling Severus to a wall and then the grimy, gray cement floor. They each managed to get a well-placed punch to stomach and shoulders, shouting several biting names and curses before Severus managed to dart away from Al's grip.

"Do you know how disgusting that floor is?" Severus asked after several moments filled with coughs and winces. He pinched his nose over the sink and watched drops of blood splatter into the bowl.

"You've never taken a punch at me before," Al said, sounding stunned, looking at Severus as though impressed. "You've got a better punch than I expected, you scrawny son of a bitch." Severus let out a short chuckle before gathering more paper towels for his nose. "I didn't break it, did I?" Al sounded rather sheepish as he rose to get a look at his friend's now swollen and bleeding nose.

"If you did I'd still be punching the shit out of you," Severus muttered. "Musn't ruin my dashing good looks, you know. I was counting on being crowned prom king."

Al laughed for a moment before turning serious again. "I'm not guaranteed to go to Nam, you know. Remember my older brother, Alfie? He's at a military base in Germany right now."

"I wouldn't take my chances," Severus said, suddenly remembering what the hell he was so upset about to begin with.

"But I _want_ to go," Al said, a sense of urgency and wistfulness in his tone. "Why can't you get over your goddamn politics and be proud for once."

"After all, who wouldn't mind fighting pointless wars in the God-forsaken jungle? Sounds like a terrific place to die," Severus said.

"Then I die." Al shrugged. "You told me you'd be willing to die for a cause, and I'm willing to die for a cause too."

"You're crazy," Severus said darkly, suddenly lighting a cigarette while a piece of rough, grainy brown paper towel was stuffed unflatteringly up his nose. "Fucking crazy. I don't know why you'd be so stupid as to die for your country in a war that makes no sense. This is just more political dick-measuring between the U.S. and communist nations."

Al bristled and stuffed his hands into his jean pockets, clearly unable to give Severus a proper retort on a subject he was much less informed in. "Whatever, man. Enough about _me_. What are _your_ plans after graduation, huh? Besides the whole not going to college thing. Mom was disappointed too, you know, when she found out you weren't going."

Severus shrugged and felt his shoulder tighten up, sensing a bruise developing. "Well you can tell Mrs. Harding that I'm thinking of heading up north. Maybe San Francisco."

"Wow, you have less direction than _I _do," Al noted as he turned on the faucet next to Severus', cupped his hands and let them fill with water before splashing his face. "That's shocking."

In the silence, the melody of a new song from the restaurant filtered through the bathroom.

"Come on, what's the _real_ reason you don't want to go to Princeton? And give me one of those," Al said, nodding towards the cigarette in Severus' hand.

"It's like I said before, I'm not meant to be a goddamn Ivy League idiot," Severus said, tossing his carton and lighter at Al.

"Maybe so, but you know what I think?" Al started, talking to Severus' disgruntled profile. "I think some part of you that's too fucking proud to admit it is scared to go to an Ivy."

Severus' frown deepened as he took a drag. He remained silent, half-heartedly convincing himself that Al was wrong. But as annoying and idiotic as Al often was, he could be oddly perceptive, especially when it came to Severus' silly inner turmoil.

"Which we all know is a load of shit," Al continued lightly and sparked up. "You could wipe the floor with those east coast snobs." A genuine laugh rumbled through Severus' lips and Al, jokingly this time, gave him a slight shove. "I remember the first time I saw you. Man, were you a square or what?"

"And _you_ were an annoying little shit with a goddamn Davy Crocket raccoon hat," Severus said.

"Nah, I was _normal_. Remember, I was playing cowboys and Indians at the goddamn park. And then I pretended to shoot you. You were a total sosh, reading in the middle of fucking summer," Al reminisced, shaking his head ruefully. He wiped his lip once more and smeared the residue of dried blood on his jeans. "So, Marcia Crawford."

"Yeah," Severus muttered before scoffing. "She thinks you're cool. She said I was in _your_ group. 'Al Harding's group', she said. And Sarah Gross thinks you have a '_bitchin_ car'."

"Sarah Gross? The Sarah who is always around Karen Maletski?" Al jeered. "She's always on the make, it's pathetic. But Crawford isn't bad. Are you two going up to the Hillside?"

"The Hillside? For what?" Severus said warily.

"_To watch the airplanes fly by._ _To count the hair on your knuckles. _What do you _think_? Don't play dumb, Sev. It doesn't look good on you," Al said, his hand resting on the door handle. "You can't just take her home. God knows you need some action. Don't give me that look. Besides, if you were out necking anybody, I'd know."

The two walked out of the bathroom to the questioning looks of their tablemates.

"What were you two doing in there? Oh my God, Al, your lip!" Joni cried as Al reclaimed his seat, rushing to grab a wetted napkin onto his lip.

"Severus, your nose is all red," Marcia noted with a frown. "What the hell happened in there?"

"Oh, just a little dispute," Al shrugged.

"You two were fighting?" Penny laughed, looking at the two boys' injuries as if she wanted to see them re-enact it for her viewing pleasure.

"We're men, Penny. We fight," Al said with a roguish smile. "It's a shame your boyfriend is too prissy to look a bit devil-may-care." He raised a hand towards a waitress. "Mabel, we'll get the check."

---

"I think that was one of the first times I've ever gone down Sunset without getting mooned," Marcia said.

"First time for everything," Severus said, tugging on his thumbs.

Awkward silences were becoming in vogue that night on the hill. Like a persistent fad it kept coming in and out of style, leaving Severus feeling more and more inadequate and lost around teenage girls than usual.

"You look nice."

_You look nice. You _fucking_ look nice_, he repeated to himself, fighting the urge to smack his forehead by how tactless and pathetic his spontaneous comment must have seem. But she _did _look nice. As nice as any eighteen-year-old blonde girl wearing a short dress and showing an awful lot more leg than Severus was accustomed to seeing—let alone in his cigarette and newspaper-laden car—_ever_ could.

"Thanks," Marcia said, tone soft yet genuine.

She faced him slowly and he watched her lightly wetted lips, shining in the artificial orange haze from the city lights and silver of the moon. She had nice lips, he supposed. They weren't thin like his, but weren't too thick either, and presently covered in dusty rose lipstick. They weren't the lipgloss-smothered mess the first girl he kissed back in sophomore year wore, which smelled like sickly sweet bubblegum and was a goopy, factory carnation pink. Marcia's lips were matte, more mature, more sophisticated, and before he knew it his face was mere inches away from hers. His eyes were still focused on her lips when they moved.

"Are you going to kiss me or not?" Marcia whispered, natural seriousness blended with playful curiosity.

Still feeling incredibly unsure of himself, Severus closed the distance between them, tilting his head so their noses wouldn't collide, heart pounding in his chest as he felt Marcia's lips move slowly against his. They broke apart a few seconds later, eyeballing each other before moving in again, Severus kissing her progressively more confidentially; his hand reached shakily for her hair while hers held onto his shoulders. Minutes later Marcia pulled away, panting in little syncopated breaths which matched his own, his mind submerged in a hormone-dazed state he had hardly expected to succumb to when he picked her up hours earlier.

"Do you want to do it now?"

The daze lifted faster than a jet at takeoff. She might as well have hit him over the head with one of her pink pumps. "_What?_"

"Why else would we be here…doing this?" Marcia asked, and began unbuttoning her black cardigan sweater.

"Wait," Severus said, eyes trying to focus on everything happening at once: her moving fingers, hair swaying as she tilted her head downward to concentrate on her buttons…

Marcia stopped and gave him a blank stare. "You don't want to…"

"No. I mean yes…I mean, I do." He opened and closed his mouth, unable to stop queer noises crawling at his throat. Despite the tendency to become very angry very quickly, emotional self-control was a virtue for Severus, a virtue which he suddenly felt may as well have abandoned him right then and there. He'd never felt so shockingly discomposed or out of his element, and in _his own damn car_.

In the dim light he could vaguely spot her raised brow and the disbelieving quirk of her pink lips. "If this is a bad time then—"

"It's not."

"All right then." Marcia finished unbuttoning and removing her sweater and tossed it unceremoniously to the backseat of the car. She then bent over a little to grab the tiny white zipper at the back of her dress before unzipping it with success. The shell-shaped, sculpted top immediately slouched away from her chest, showing a glimpse of the shadow between her breasts.

"And you're sure you want to do this," Severus said, forcing himself to look away from her chest and instead out at the lights of the city, twinkling in the distance.

He heard her cool reply. "I don't think I'd be taking off my dress in your car if I wasn't."

"Well, I don't have…" Severus told his knees.

"I'm on the pill," Marcia assured him flatly, spoken like she said that the weather tomorrow would be temperate. In the same manner she casually slid the rest of her dress down her navel, under her bottom, and down her legs. He stared at her rounded stomach and her conservative white undergarments. The nonchalant nature of her actions made it clear that this practice was hardly new to her. Severus didn't know why he assumed Marcia was a prudish, safe sort of girl. He liked to think he was a competent judge of character, but even he couldn't deny the fact that his first impressions weren't always necessarily his smartest or most accurate. She straightened her back, shot him a short smile, and motioned at him.

Severus nearly strangled himself taking off his brown tie and unbuttoned his shirt in a nervous rush, trembling fingers slipping and smarting around circular plastic buttons. Moving to the belt of his pants, he noticed Marcia's bored expression as she looked at her nails and bobbed a crossed leg. Thin beads of sweat gathered at his hairline as he unzipped his pants and pulled them down his legs, taking off his shoes in the process.

"Do you usually keep your socks on when you do it?" Marcia questioned wryly.

"What?"

"Your socks. Your socks are on."

"It's…chilly."

"You've never done this before, have you?"

Severus' heart, now permanently lodged in his throat, skipped a beat or a dozen, he wasn't quite sure. _For fuck's sake._

"Well," Marcia said with an amused sigh. "Like you said, there's a first time for everything."

Without further introduction, Marcia swiftly unhooked her bra from behind her back before letting it fall to the floor of the car.

---

Severus had never felt more mortified in his life. Everyone talked about it like it was so easy; no horror stories of cramped limbs, arms falling asleep, the awkward positioning of feet, or unidentified body parts accidentally pressing against the car horn.

Avery always said girls were tricky during sex, that men have to do all the hard work and sometimes women just aren't appreciative. Now Severus knew what he meant: by unappreciative, he meant unsatisfied. There was no point, in Severus' mind, for sex to be so goddamn one-sided. Human nature suddenly felt like one big joke.

"Want a smoke?" It was all he could say as they both lay back in the bug, arms crossed over both their chests.

"Sure," Marcia said, voice hoarse from a lack of speech. He handed her a cigarette and lit it as it sat precariously between her lips. She took a couple shallow drags before coughing lightly. At least there was _something_ he was more experienced at than her. "These are strong."

"I know."

"Nasty habit."

"I know."

"How many do you smoke a day?"

"What are you, my doctor?" Severus said, taking a drag himself. She arched a thin, blonde eyebrow. "Maybe half a pack. I'm not _that_ hooked."

They smoked in silence, but Severus was itching with apprehension. He straightened his throat, scratched his forearm, and slouched his shoulders in a manner he hoped appeared laid-back, relaxed. "How was the…"

"The what?"

"For God's sake, you _know_."

Marcia released the cigarette from between her lips, her mouth vaguely downcast as she peered at the filter before shooting him a glance from under her lashes. She shrugged. "On a scale of one to ten, ten being the best, one being the worst…I'd say a five and a half."

If sex was given a letter grade, he would have gotten an F; failed. Severus felt his lips curl dejectedly for a moment; however, he wasn't surprised: the whole thing had been a mess. "At least you're honest," he muttered, staring at his brown slacks under the dashboard.

"No point in lying, right?" Marcia said, and with one last grimace she rolled down the window and threw out the cigarette.

_Sometimes. _"Right."

After another bout of near silence, Marcia helped herself to the radio volume, cranking it up for a Beatles song.

"I hear Smith is a good school." It was all he could think to say, but it must have been the right thing: Marcia beamed.

---

After Marcia gave him a small wave when she reached her door, Severus took off down the hill in a flurry of emotions and contemplations which had never plagued him before. The boys would bombard him Monday with questions of how the date had ended. He and Marcia would likely ignore each other for the most part, save awkward glances and perhaps small talk. He may let her borrow his pencil again, and she'd return it, and give him a small smile. She'd go to prom with another boy who won't score five and a half; they'd all graduate and probably never see each other again, barring ten-year reunions he wouldn't be caught dead attending. She'd go off to Smith and marry a doctor.

Everyone had their lives planned out for them. Even Evan, _Evan_ had his life plan in the works down to the car model. And Severus…Severus didn't know what he was going to do past graduation besides moving out and heading north. All he knew was that he needed a change of scenery from Los Angeles' smog burning his eyes, his mother downing more pills, his father trying to get him to become some sort of handyman.

He was scared for Al, hopeful for Marcia, and for himself he felt nothing but the unknown. Severus suddenly sympathized with Ralphie's anxiety earlier that night. He wondered who of the boys would disappear, who'd be too damn busy or too lost to think of writing a letter or making a phone call or meeting up at their diner; maybe it'd be Evan, or maybe it'd be him.

Needing a distraction down the curvy city lane, he turned up the volume on the radio, until he couldn't hear his car's engine or the sound of tires against the pavement. City lights glowed eerily against his face, across his drowsy eyes, and the car was filled with a harmonized chorus, repeating a single phrase of assurance.

_Don't worry baby. Everything'll turn out all right._


End file.
